My Teenage Romantic Comedy is now a Medieval Political Fantasy?
by Icura
Summary: Hikigaiya Hachiman is reborn as Hachi of House Lannister. This is definitely not a game he's stuck in, and there doesn't appear to be any overpowered Light Novel Protagonist cheat for him to use. Watch as he stumbles through medieval life armed with only his rotten personality and a mountain of gold.
1. Chapter 1: Pride (272 AC)

My Teenage Romantic Comedy is now a Medieval Political Fantasy? Didn't Expect That (Oregairu/Game of Thrones)

~o~

Chapter 1: Pride (272 AC)

~o~

When I think of childbirth, I had expected that I would need to experience it someday. Not giving birth myself, of course, since I was male, but by watching it happen. However, I didn't expect that my point of view, instead of being from the father's, it was from the baby's. How would I describe it? The confusion, the warmth, the tightness, and the coldness at the end of the tunnel. I couldn't. Or rather, I wouldn't.

Because this was definitely going to become a trauma.

The first thing that greeted me when I was born—or rather, reborn—was the blurry image of a person who I would later learn was a chambermaid and two different screaming voices. It was impossible to tell, not with my undeveloped eyes and ears, but I would learn later on that I was part of a set of triplets.

I was born Hachi Lannister. The story was that I was supposed to be named Hatch Lannister, but my mother sneezed during her rendition of it. Not once. Not twice but three times. She took it as a sign from the Seven and named me thus. That was why, despite the fact that I was in a brand new world with a whole different aesthetics, I had a name that was similar enough to my last.

What's this? You don't understand? Let me greet you with a couple of facts.

My true name—well, I guess both are my true names so this would count as my previous name—was Hikigaya Hachiman. Hikigaya was the family name while Hachiman was the given name. I needed to emphasize this since this world had a different order set for names, but that was to be expected since I was born into a medieval European-styled world that was based on western aesthetics. Hachi, Hachiman. Pretty close, wasn't it?

In my previous life, I was born in Japan to two parents chained to the corporate system. They adhered to the religion of the black companies whose motto was that unpaid overtime was the joy of life. As expected of a child spawned from corporate slaves, I grew up above-average in everything except appearance. And then I died. The end.

Oh wait, that wasn't the end. Of course it wasn't, otherwise my story wouldn't be about another life but about the afterlife. On that note, I was born to House Lannister in Casterly Rock in the Westerlands region on the Westeros continent as a completely normal and healthy baby boy.

Normally, reincarnators would get some kind of cheat skill or they would bring their education from the other world to change this one. However! This wasn't a medieval fantasy. This was simply medieval. I wasn't given any sort of power like that, even though I guess being born as a super high-ranking noble could maybe count as one. As for education…

I knew absolutely nothing. I could mix a few chemicals to make certain chain reactions, but it wasn't like I knew how to make those chemicals in the first place. I guessed my math skill would be the highest here—if that was worth anything. Probably just with calculating tithes and taxes. Well, what did you expect? I was a high school student who knew high school subjects and too much unhealthy internet trivia. You would think that an old man engineer would be the ideal type to reincarnate, especially with the progress they could bring to the era, but for a high school student? That was a laughable dream.

Just what kind of reincarnation story was this? I had read enough light novels to know what I was supposed to be getting into, but my circumstances had none of that. Even though this was definitely a different world—I didn't recognize any of the countries or continents—it was closer to medieval Europe than anything else. There used to be fantasy elements like magic and dragons, but those had died out a long time ago, if they even existed in the first place. All that was left was high-nosed nobles, dirt-poor peasants, and an incestuous royal line. No monsters or demon lords at all. Just myths and legends like the White Walkers which were basically gruesome fairy tales people would tell their kids at night to keep them obedient. Of course, it never worked on me.

"Hachi, get your head out of that book and come play with us."

I flipped to the next page in the book, deliberately ignoring the six years old blond boy in front of me. I supposed that should be "six name days," but that just sounded too strange in my mind for my taste. With a huff, he walked up to me and slapped the book out of my hands. I didn't mind though; the book was terrible. It was a fiction story, but when only around maybe ten percent of the population could read, much less write, the quality of written stories tended to be extremely low. Like caveman art in comparison to manga art. I sorely missed my old collection of light novels on my bookshelf and webnovels on my computer.

And I desperately hoped they erased my harddrive.

 _Here lies Hikigaya Hachiman. He had a predilection towards women with bunny ears._

"Jaime," I said as I tried to hide the sigh that wanted to creep out of me.

"Well, are you going to come or not? We're all waiting for you."

"We both know that's not true. You're the only one waiting for me. And maybe Cersei if she's out there."

Jaime frowned. I wasn't cute like Jaime and Cersei. I was just me, with blond hair. The hair really didn't help make my dead fisheyes any better. Not that I wanted to be like that riajuu bastard, Hayato, but it would have been nice to look appealing. Wait, scratch that. Bastard wasn't a term I could easily throw around now. I will just call him an idiot. What kind of face did I have? Well, my features remained relatively the same, if you disregard how a cosmetic surgeon rearranged my face. Okay, so there was a big difference, but I didn't see people falling over themselves for me like they did with my siblings, so I doubted that it changed that much. Except now, I was the heir to a kingdom, seeing since I was born first among the triplets in the ruling House of the region. Not that my siblings, as young as they were, truly understood what that meant. Not that I truly understood what that meant.

"They all wear masks, Jaime. The sooner you can see through them, the sooner you'll understand," I said. "I don't mean they're inherently dangerous; they are children of our bannermen and allies, but the face they have on is the same kind that villagers have with their local lords. The fake kind." The same kind that salarymen have with their corporate bosses. "Why should I bother wasting my time?"

There was a moment of angry indecision on his face before Jaime turned to point at the fallen book. "And what do your books have? Just boring stuff."

"History, politics, war." If he actually bothered to learn to read well, he would have known that the book on the floor was none of these. It was actually a cheap, vapid romance novel that I wouldn't pay a single yen for. Not that I paid for any of these books at all. "For ruling. You understand, right?"

At that, Jaime said nothing and stormed out.

I got up from my seat, bent down, and picked up the book. Taking only a momentary glance at it, I put it back on the bookshelf. It probably wouldn't be long before Jaime tells someone about my refusal. Someone was going to eventually come to check up on me, and I didn't relish the thought of getting caught with this kind of book in my hand. I skimmed through the admittedly small selection once more, hoping that this time, an interesting book that I missed before would pop up.

A lot of the books here were history books, detailing the same events but just in a slightly different style with different biases. Still, that wouldn't be so bad if they weren't so dry. It was actually much worse than my high school textbooks so that said a lot about the kind of people who read and wrote these books. There was a saying that in order not to repeat history, we must learn from it, but a lot of these historical events were…something.

Take for instance the story of something something Targaryen who defeated an entire army by riding on his dragon and burning them down. What did we learn from this event? Get a fucking dragon, one of the best cheats you can have.

Any tactics mentioned were at best rudimentary. Flanking? Obvious. Fire arrows? Can I start yawning now?

I played enough Nobunaga's Ambition and Romance of the Three Kingdoms to get an idea of how to rule a kingdom in war times. In fact, I had even played more than my fair share of real time strategy games. While real life was different, it wasn't that much of a different. I just had to account for those factors like communication, weather, and human stupidity. There was a reason you couldn't direct a team in a MMORPG like you would with units in a RTS. Still, it wasn't like I was a master at those kinds of games; I wasn't Korean after all.

Out of all the books, I eventually pulled out a book on the various Houses. I never really found these to be that useful. The only ones that you really had to know about were the major Houses and a few important bannermen. Knowing the sigil would help to identify them by sight and knowing the motto gave a little description on what the family was about. However, everything else was just fluff. What was the use of knowing their myths and legends or what deeds their ancestors did? Yes, yes, knowing that would let you know if they were friendly or not, predicting their attitude on this or that ancestor who married into this or that house. I supposed since these noble houses had long memories, ingrained by a maester's droning, grudges were serious issues, but it would be easier and more practical for me if someone could just told me outright if they were friendly or not. There were too much backstabbing and betrayal for the past knowledge to be truly relevant anyways. If it went further than three or four generations back, it wasn't exactly that relevant anymore. Besides, it was all just too tangled up at this point. Better to slice the rope than undo the knot. Besides, just because my parents were corporate slaves didn't mean I was going to be one.

Yet, here I was reviewing the main houses again while ignoring the numerous houses of their bannermen when I heard the door opening. In hindsight, that had been a very practical decision to switch books.

"Hachi." My father, Lord Tywin Lannister, stood in the doorway, was staring at me with a gaze that would have petrified me, if I wasn't a reincarnator. As it was, I merely returned the gaze with all the calm of a startled rabbit. Yeah, I wasn't that calm.

"Father."

"Why aren't you frolicking with the other boys your age?" His stern voice made it seem more like an interrogation rather than the simple questioning that it was.

"Why bother?" Having said that, I waited for the tirade that was sure to come.

"Why? I've told you several times, Hachi. They will be your bannermen. In the future, they will fight for you and die by your command," he said. "You must foster the relationships that will serve you when you are Lord of Casterly Rock."

"What's the point? At most, a person would get one or two close friends. What's the use of that when we have far more bannerhouses than that?" I distinctly remembered the expressions on their faces the first time I met them. They were quick to hide it behind fake smiles, but they were children; they were definitely not experienced enough to hide it from my discerning eyes. "Besides, I can tell they think they don't think much of me."

"You don't wish to dispel their notion?"

"What's the point? One or two will mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. Our house has too many bannermen for that to matter."

"An interesting observation, my son, but foolish." Tywin walked up to me and looked down at the book in my lap. "Politics and the court require a finesse that you must learn through interaction with others."

"It's useless for me."

"As Lord of Casterly Rock, you will need to negotiate with and entreat those that come to your court," Tywin said. "I expect you down there amongst your peers before evening."

"I refuse." The moment that words left my mouth, his hand was already swinging. The slap resounded through the room even as I fell from my seat.

"There will be no more discussion or arguments. I expect to be obeyed."

"Or else what?" I glared him. I knew it was childish, and I could see him visibly restraining himself from slapping me again.

"Or else, boy, you will be confined to your bedchambers until I feel you have learned to be obedient." With that said, Tywin stormed out like a tempest.

For anyone else in this strange era, it would be a punishment, but for me, it was more of a blessing. This "punishment" suited me just fine.

~o~

I had spoken too soon. It didn't matter the fact that I prepared so much material for my precious solo time. The fact of the matter was that this solitude was started to grate on me. Was it human nature? Nobody was allowed to see me except for when the maids came to feed me or clean me. Even then, they were silent, and I was hard-pressed to break it. They answered me well enough, but I didn't have any natural aptitude for striking up conversations so my attempts usually ended in a terse reply and then more silence.

The books lasted a while, as they always did, but they were relatively few in number, and they weren't exactly interesting in the first place. Who was interested in knowing how the secret bastard daughter of Brynden Rivers and Shiera Seastar attracted the attention and fell in love with the heir to House Blackfrye? Nobody but Cersei. She gobbled that kind of story up every time I read to her, except she wasn't here right now to allay my boredom.

So what did I do most of the time? I slept, and I thought about things. This life and my previous life. I thought a lot about about Komachi, my little sister, as well as Totsuka Saika, whose smile I wanted to protect with all my might. Ah, Totsuka Saika… Fortunately—unfortunately—that forbidden path was now forever closed.

I sighed.

Solitude. It really was no good without any real entertainment. There were no computers, internet, light novels, anime, or even music to listen to. Well, there was technically music. Not in my room, of course, but there were musicians. However, their selection was vastly limited. So much so that I have heard Rain over Castamere more times than I care to think about.

This era was truly the era of boredom.

There was training because there was nothing else to do.

There was book learning because there was nothing else to do.

There was socializing because if there was something else to do, the world would implode.

I had survived the first few years of life simply because everything was new. Now, I knew what it felt like to be a caged princess. Except male. And a prince.

I wanted to go out and sightsee…

…because there was really, really nothing else to do.

As I lying in bed, bemoaning my fate like the spoiled reincarnator I was, the door opened with the turning of the overly loud doorknob and the creak of dry hinges. I didn't bother to get up because I assumed it was one of the maids.

I assumed wrong.

"Hachi." The stern voice of Tywin Lannister made me shot up from my bed in surprise. Not panic, just surprise. My clothes were wrinkled, but I didn't bother to straighten them down.

"Father."

"Are you ready to do your duty?" He asked that like it was a statement with a forgone conclusion. However, I had something up my sleeve.

I stood up from my bed and pointed at him with a determined face.

"I challenge you to a duel!"

~o~

By duel, I did not mean an actual fight or spar. Anyone who thought that a six year old could actually go through with that ought to have their brain examined. No, I was referring to something more of a game. And not a card game like Yu-Gi-Oh, otherwise I would have stuttered the word "duel."

What I was challenging him to was something that I knew was his expertise. This was actually a war game with a map of Westeros covering the entire long table in the war room. On the map were small wooden blocks of different shapes that signified the towns and castles. Colored rectangular blocks were representative of armies, with his being the color of red while mine being blue.

"I believe in you, Hachi," Cersei whispered from besides me. Hah, Cersei, my cute little sister, you earned a lot of Hachiman points with that! It didn't mattered that I taught her the phrase; all that mattered was that her timing was spot-on.

The room was actually a bit crowded. Once people heard that the little lord was challenging the big lord, many people came just to see how well I did, which included most of my relatives in the castle like my uncles and the rest of the triplets. They probably didn't expect that it would be something like this.

I had heard enough stories of the battles he had won in the past to know how cunning and skilled everyone thought he was. However!

I had far more victories in single player campaigns and multiplayer matches than him to lose here!

"Do not forget your word, Hachi." Tywin stared down at with the same blank yet stern gaze that he always had. "I expect your full obedience."

"I won't forget." After all, I promised to meet with those children, but I never said how many times I would do it. I worded it carefully enough in-case of failure or injustice. This was a testament to how rotten my personality was. However, I didn't want to lose; if I did, it would mean exposing that safety net, and I knew that Tywin was intelligent enough that it wouldn't work a second time.

"You may make the first move, Hachi." That was a handicap if I ever heard of any.

"What about the rules?"

"Rules?"

"How to play."

"This isn't a game," Tywin said. "You will start with a set of seven armies. We'll each take turns, explaining our choices and actions when we make them."

"That's it?"

"Were you expecting more?"

"Yes, you need to choose the general composition of your army and mark the pieces. Since I'm going first in the game, you can choose what units you have first." While it seemed like I was giving him the lead in that, it was actually a handicap in my benefit. Whatever army he chooses, I would be able to counter his composition. When I looked at him, however, I could tell by the glint in his eyes that he knew that too, but he didn't refute me. He was probably overconfident because of my age and inexperience.

Well, I will teach him not to underestimate me…um too much, that is.

"I shall take three cavalry, three infantry, and one archer for my armies."

"You'll have to be more detailed than that." At his questioning look, I said, "What kind of cavalry are you using? A heavy cavalry of full-plate knights with lance and sword, used for charging into enemy lines? Or maybe you prefer a lightly armored cavalry armed with spear and shield to harass with hit and runs? What about the infantry? What armor and weaponry will they have? Sword and shield? Warhammer and shield? Spears and javalins? If we want to simulate war, we can't be frivolous with the details. Each type has their own specialties and their own counters."

It was only when I stopped talking that I realized the silence that came over the room. Looking around, I saw some wide eyes and agape mouths, but none looked so surprised as my brother, Jaime. I flushed a little when I realized that I probably looked like a military otaku, giving a trivial lecture on the specification of a rifle. However, Tywin answered without missing a beat. He named off a list of different unit types, as if he thought I would understand. Of course, he thought right, but I was far from the stereotypical six year old. Nevertheless, I felt a little bad for cheating like this.

"Next time, let's make our selection in private with a judge so that the battlefield would be a surprise." I felt like I needed to say that little piece before I launched into my own set of units for my armies. Of course, each of them were specific counters to his. On the actual map, we started with our armies on the opposite side. Mine in the south while his in the north. Since I had the first turn, I was able to get a headstart and secure the more viable castles. By securing, I didn't mean putting it into a siege, but more of the negotiation type since a battle would take too long and they were technically still within my territory. I had a lot of free time during my punishment so I did read up from these castles, even if my memory of the details were a little fuzzy. Still, I knew the basics, and I had to explain my reasoning for getting the lords of these castles to agree when Tywin asked. This established a viable supply line and retreat point.

However, because of my mass grabs, my armies became scattered to the left and right of the field leaving only one of my armies in the middle. Tywin's armies were collected together into a giant host so he wasn't able to get that many castles, but it was enough as he made his way down the middle. It was basically a mass of armor. Everything from heavy cavalry to heavy swordsmen. Only the archers wore light armor. I took that as a sign that the archers were going to be the skirmishers, going ahead of the pack to weaken my forces.

Of course, that was when I made my strike. I launched light cavalry even as I regrouped my forces on the left and right side of him. I had to explain my reasoning and why it would work when I had my light cavalry commence hit and runs on his heavy cavalry. The attacks were swift and devastating since I aimed not at the armored soldiers but at the horses themselves since those were unarmored. When he gave chase, my light cavalry proved too swift and suffered very few casualties. When I had the opportunity, I used the light cavalry to hit the skirmishing archers. One charge practically ripped them in half.

My archers on both sides launched arrows into Tywin's host. For good measure, I had them wrap cloth around the arrows and light them on fire. It reduced the range and accuracy of my arrows, but I didn't need too much; with his cavalry and archers occupied, the heavy swordsmen were much too slow to reach my archers, their platemails weighing them down and exhausting them. The thing about fire arrows was that they weren't technically that useful in actual killing, but my target wasn't the infantry; it was the horses. Fire was something that frightened them, and scared horses sometimes ran amok, causing chaos in their ranks.

One of Tywin's heavy cavalry was able to charge to the west, but I had my spearman army set down spearwall. By that, I meant that I had the first row crouch down while aiming their spears forward. The second row aimed their spears a little over the head of the first row. The third row set their spears on the shoulder of the second row to aim at the highest level. This essentially set down three defensive rows of spears that the charging horses stopped before or suicided on. The thrown off knights would then be slaughtered before they could get up by the back row. I switched out the rows when I could because even though the spears did stop the horses, they tended to break. That wasn't even mentioning the casualties that occurred since the momentum of charging horses wasn't something that could be easily stopped.

I couldn't stop the heavy infantry, but I made sure that they were fatigued. I hadn't traveled much north while he had to move his entire host southward. Heavy armor and long marches were not exactly compatible aspects. By the time our battle begun, his soldiers were already fatigued. It was a simple matter to have crossbow skirmishers lay down waves of bolts while still having enough space to flee out of range of the heavy infantry.

With all this happening, I also argued that the morale of the units, with the dissolution of the host, the constant hit and run attacks, as well as the fire arrows would make routing a very real possibility.

Which did happen. With my armies attacking from all sides, the enemy started routing back to the north. In that direction was a wide-open plain that was practically asking for my cavalry to rampage through. However, I didn't use them to chase until the host finally broke apart and all of them routed. Only then did I use my cavalry and slaughter the retreating soldiers. With their heavy armor, they had no chance of escape. When asked why I slaughtered the defeated and retreating army, I didn't hesitate to say my response.

"It's better if there's no war. Peace is always better than war. But if they come at me with an army, to destroy the land and people that I'm protecting, then I'll show them no mercy. I'll crush them so completely and utterly that they will never have another thought of raising their sword against me, even if I have to eradicate entire houses to do so." Utterly harsh words. I actually said them because it sounded like the kind of thing that a General would say, but if it came down to it, I wasn't actually sure if I could do that. Still, the silence was deafening.

However, when I looked up at Tywin, I had never saw him so proud as he was in this very moment.

~o~

After that, there was a lot of gossip about me.

It was crazy how public opinion switched around just like that. I heard the whispers, the talks about how I was a genius of war. How I went into detail about specific unit types. How I surrounded and routed Tywin's armies. Even though I did find out later that the tactics that I used weren't really that good, nobody expected a six year old child to think of even that much, so they were really expecting a lot in my future. Though, I couldn't say I liked my new nickname.

Little Tywin. They never said it to my face, but I heard the whispers just before I turn a corner.

Still, I had a lot of fun. For the first time in a long time, my excitement had peaked and my adrenaline was running. If I had to analyze it, I would say it was more akin to a table-top roleplaying game than a strategy game. Since there was no rules, I had to constantly explain why some tactics would work or why this or that unit was faster. Sometimes, I had to argue with Tywin on some of them, though my uncle, Kevan Lannister, was usually the judge that decided on those cases. He was fair, though, by stating why he was accepting this or that argument.

After that, Tywin would sometimes come back and quiz me. The questions would range from house sigil to battle tactics. I wasn't that great on house identification questions, but for battle tactics, those were probably my best. He started bringing me around inspections of the nearby barracks as well as expose me to the paperwork involved with all of that. After he found out that I was skilled at mathematics, which wasn't hard since the highest level of math in this area seemed to be arithmetic, he got me to work on financial and logistic documents like with the tithes of the fiefs and the upkeep of the armies. I still had to wonder why he was expecting so much out of a six year old.

When I walked the halls, people noticed me more. Before, I had seemed lazy since I kept skipping sword practice and social parties, but that was all changed by that war game. Now, I was known as a genius, and everyone was trying to get close to me now. I didn't outright reject them—it just wasn't in my nature to—but I wasn't that good with conversation, and it showed. Some tried harder than others, but I still gradually pushed them away.

Behind their smiles and polite words, I could tell. I could read between the lines. Nothing had changed except their fear and respect for me. They still thought I was disgusting. Maybe I could have fooled myself, if I didn't have my discerning eye. Maybe I would have been happier, surrounded by sycophants and golddiggers, ready to do my bidding in order to get closer to me. In order to gain more power from me.

But I could tell. I could see through their facades. Their gracious smiles that never reached their eyes. Their polite words that decorated their loathing. Each word out of them was like a hidden knife.

Some people were optimistic. They would think: "Maybe I can change myself or maybe I can change them." And maybe they do. However, to me, that was like letting them hold a knife to my chest while I desperately hope that they would change their mind about me and retract the blade. No, I couldn't live like that. I didn't have it in me to be that brave, to bet it all on the roll of a gambler's dice. So I pushed them away.

"Hachi, there you are!" Cersei threw open the door and came in, followed closely by Jaime.

I groaned from where I was lying down on my bed.

Family was the exception.

Family was always the exception.

Jamie stopped in front of my bed and stared down at me with a smirk on his face. "See. Told you he'd be here. He's always here."

I tried to swat him with my pillow, but he backed away out of my reach.

"Hachi, get up! Don't you remember what day today is?" Cersei came within reach, but I didn't swat at her. My learned reluctance, stemming from Komachi and my previous corporate slave father, stayed my hand long before my brain caught up. I really was too sleepy for all of this.

"My day off." This corporate drudgery had me hauling my carcass to a Maester and the Swordsmanship Instructor six days a week along with my siblings. Yes, both siblings. Since Jaime and Cersei looked so alike, they kept crossdressing and switching places so that Cersei could learn the sword arts. They couldn't do the same with me since I looked a bit different from them, so much so if someone didn't know beforehand, they would think Jaime and Cersei were only twins and not triplets.

"Jaime." Cersei looked at her little brother and nodded to him. Jaime returned the nod. They grabbed my arms, a flat-chested rose for each arm. "What does flat-chested mean?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." Stop reading my mind, Cersei!

"You're saying it out loud!"

I didn't get a chance to respond before they yanked me off the bed, sending me sprawling across the rug. I rolled around a bit, trying to generate friction and create heat for my quickly chilling body. It was only after I gave it a modicum of effort—about fifteen seconds worth—that I finally gave up and flopped onto my back.

"So what do you two want?" Even though I asked that question, it was with exasperation instead of curiosity. We had been through this dance and play so many times that it was nearly becoming a habit. Our routine was me being lazy—with good reason—and them dragging me off to whatever caught their attention on that particular day.

"Didn't you hear? Mother is pregnant," Jaime said.

"Really? Okay, wake me nine months later." I made no effort to get up as I rubbed my cheek against the rug.

"Do you think it will be a boy or girl? I'd like a little sister," Cersei said without missing a beat.

"It'll be whatever. I already have both so it's not like I'm missing anything."

"I wouldn't mind having a little brother," Jaime said.

"Does it matter?"

"It does matter!" Both of them yelled into both of my ears at the same time.

"…next thing I know, you'll both be finishing each other's sentences." Even as I grumbled, I sat up. Jaime held out a hand which I grabbed, letting him pull me up to my feet. "So what are you both really here for?"

"Can't we just be here because we want to play with you?" Cersei asked before giving up just as quickly without missing a beat. "Fine. I need you to convince father to let me practice swordfighting."

"Don't you do that already? Can't you just keep pretending to be Jaime?"

"No, I can't! If I'm being taught, that means Jaime is not being taught."

"Why me? Why don't you just ask him yourself?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? You're his heir, Hachi the genius. If you ask him—no, if you beg him, he'll let me join the class with Jaime and you."

Well, I don't see why not.

~o~

"No."

"No?"

"No," Tywin repeated.

"Really?"

Tywin paused mid-scribble and looked up at me with an intimidating stare. I could tell from his expression alone that he was asking me if I was really asking that.

"Why can't Cersei be taught to fight?"

"Sometimes, I forget," Tywin said. "that you're a child of six namedays."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means that you're not mature enough to understand the full extent of the duties you must one day be responsible for." Tywin's frown deepened. "Traditions must be upheld."

"You mean reputation. I'm your son; I know you don't really care all that much about traditions."

Tywin frowned slightly. "The answer is still no."

"At least let her learn self-defense. This is a dangerous world where knights will rape a beautiful girl if they get the chance. There's nothing wrong with learning to fight a little to protect herself," I said. "All it takes is one time, less than an hour, for her—for most girls—to be forced upon by someone. If she knows enough to fight back, to cause a lot of noise, then wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"For a child of six, you know more abut that than you should," Tywin said tiredly. "The answer, however, is still no."

"Why not?" I was getting agitated, I could recognize that, and it came through in my voice.

"Besides the wasted time and manpower on a girl whose duty is to hearth and home? Placing the tools, no matter how insufficient, into the hands of a naive little girl who thinks she can take on the role of a boy, a man, a squire, a knight will only lead to dereliction. She'll run off to Essos with fantasies of grandeur. When she returns, it'll be with one less arm, a cunt that has been raped a few dozen times, and a bastard in her womb."

"That won't happen."

"You do not know that. If I came out and taught the stable boy how to use a sword for two weeks, the fool would become confident enough to join an army and die in battle. Do you believe that is sufficient training?"

"No," I said while trying not to roll my eyes. Tywin was getting into lecture-mode so I began preparing myself to weather it out yet again.

"Do you think this stable boy will live past his first battle?"

"Maybe."

"There is no 'maybe.' There is a 'yes' and a 'no.'"

"I can't speak on behalf of luck," I said. "Battles aren't won just by skill, father."

Tywin gave me a speculating glance. "No, they certainly are not. I do not believe I need to teach you the requirements and qualities of war," Tywin said. "But if the girl is allowed, what is to stop other ladies from asking for the same? Why not include the women of the smallfolk? Shall we construct a female barrack for your new division of women-at-arms?"

"No need for the sarcasm, father. We both know the smallfolk won't ask for it; they're just too scared," I said. Well, some of them weren't, but I could imagine how a low-born girl would be treated in the military: tragically. "How about if a highborn lady wants to train, then she'll need to send a letter to her father asking permission. Without doing that first, it'll risk alienating my future bannermen, and I can't have that happening." I already knew that most of those kind of permission letters would definitely be rejected, meaning that things wouldn't really change from how it was now except Cersei being able to train openly.

"A well thought out solution." Tywin nodded and paused for a few moments. "Very well, I'll allow it."

"I'm glad you see reason—"

"Under one condition," Tywin said. "Any trouble that comes from it will be your responsibility. Do not think you'll get your way all the time. You've the gift of logic, more than I could say of many men four-folds older than you, but it can easily turn on you."

I nodded my head at his condition and his advice. Not that I really needed it, since it was just a warning about being cautious. I was already cautious enough.

"I will, however, praise you for not using the other houses as examples in your arguments. I know very well that the Dornish and some houses in the North _allow_ their women to fight, but we are Lannisters; we do not follow the lead of other houses. We follow our own will."

I nodded again.

He returned to his writing, and I returned to the duty I was performing earlier.

The reason I was here in the first place was because Tywin had begun taking me along on his duties. Or rather, I should say it was his office duties. Letters, reports, and—when I showed an aptitude for arithmetic—financial documents. Not that it was hard to be considered a genius with math; enough of the nobles I met could add or subtract, but multiplication and division? Maybe one in ten out of those that knew that level of arithmetic. Anything more advance? Perish the thought.

I should have expected it though, especially with the rate of literacy in this world. If I was to guess what they were thinking, I would say it would be something like: "Who needs to read if you can swing a sword?" It was that kind of thinking that was going to end badly. History—at least history in my previous life—showed what could be achieved far past that era, where humans numbered in the billions and could reach the moon. It was not a paradise, but it was far closer than here. I was born in a fortunate position, but people born as peasants? Their lot wasn't pleasant to think about, yet it was something I had to think about eventually since I was the heir.

"Hachi," Tywin said, taking my attention from the document I was reading. I had been sitting in a chair in his office, reading through one letter after another from this or that lord. It usually contained empty platitude and sometimes a request for fostering which I was putting into my steadily growing rejection stack. As for him, he was still working even while he talked, writing on whatever parchment was in front of him.

"Yes, father?"

"What have you learned?" At his question, I glanced at my large rejection stack.

"Lords like to give greetings," I said, "just so you can remember they exist."

"Do not mock them."

"I'm not," I replied. "The more contact you have with someone, the more chances that you will hit a flag."

"Flag?"

"Uh, it's nothing," I mumbled.

"Do not take this lightly, boy. After my death, these will be your bannermen; those that will heed your call to arms if you remain strong," Tywin said. "You must keep them close, but you cannot trust them."

"I know. Keep my friends close and my enemies closer. I remember reading about what happened with Grandpa Tytos, especially with the Tarbeck and Reyne."

"Then you know what happened to them?"

"Yes, father."

"Take heed, boy. Your grandfather's weakness allowed them to bring our house nearly to ruins. Do not make the same mistake."

"I know, father. When the center is weak, it has a chain reaction that causes everyone to suffer. The vassals will rebel and the land will be filled with bandits. If he had been stronger as a lord, then both the Reynes and the Tarbeck would have never rose up against him," I said. "Because of him, the Westernlands lost strong bannermen, and the smallfolk suffered many losses. I won't make the same mistake."

"Good." Tywin gave me the barest of smiles. It was lacking in many regards, but it was also as rare as pigs flying over the moon. "A lord must never show weakness."

"For the vultures are not too far behind," I said, finishing his sentence with my own.

"Clever," Tywin said. He pointed at the pile of letters that I had stacked earlier. "After you burn them, you may leave."

I raised an eyebrow. "Not going to write a response?"

"The responses have been written, and the ravens sent out weeks ago. I kept these for your lessons," he said. "You may leave."

Well, I didn't need to be told twice.

"After you burn them."

Ugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

~o~

Well, there was something to consider about medieval times. My time was not that constricted by activities. Now, that might not sound important, but it really was. The time varied, but you generally spent one or two hours with a Maester, learning how to read, how to do very basic mathematics, and the history of Westeros. Of course, they called it letters and numbers while the history was confined to mostly great events in the past and about the different Houses across the continent. After that, a couple more hours on sword practice. However, that was four hours at max, if even that much. Now, these were the mandatory hours; I could still practice more and have a man-at-arms teach me for however long I wanted or bug the Maester for more information. It was a possibility, though most children took this time to play with their peers.

I wasn't most children, seeing how I was a reincarnated person. And that was the crutch of the issue. I didn't have any desire to go exploring or messing around with real children—well, children with fresh minds, that is. Practicing how to use a sword was no real joy, just endless repetition, muscle burns, and pain. Sure, it was going to be necessary since this was the medieval times after all, but if there was anything else to do besides practicing and studying the books, I would say there was none. There were few fiction books in Westeros that weren't written by Maesters so creativity was on the low side. Well, there was always a story to tell, and maybe even an interesting one, if I ever got passed the dry writing. With life as it was, there weren't much advances in any of the fields of art, especially creative writing.

With such a lack of things to do, my free time—as you could imagine—was rather immense.

"The moment you enter the cavernous room, you notice old blood staining the walls. Other than that, the room is too dark to see much further than a few feet."

"Ser Lurin bravely runs into the darkness—ow!" Cersei pulled Jaime's ear.

"Don't be stupid, Jaime."

"Stay in character," I sternly reminded her. She let go of his ear with a huff.

"Ser Pound pinches Ser Lurin's ear and says, 'Don't be daft. I've a torch.'"

"Roll 2d6 to catch Ser Lurin's ear. Otherwise, he runs off into the darkness alone."

Cersei picked up and dropped two misshapen little boxes with numbers ranging from one to six on each side. Despite my best effort, it tended to fall on one side so I put the worst number, one, on that side so it showed up less frequently. After all, people did like to win.

"That's ten. Ser Pound manages to grab Ser Lurin's ear and pull him back with some stern words. However, out of the darkness, you hear screeches echoing off the walls. It sounds high-pitched, an inhuman sound that no human could ever make. As you listen, you hear it getting louder and louder."

As you could imagine, I had to figure out my own ways of whittling away time.

There was a real goal here besides entertaining my siblings. Once we play through a couple of campaigns, then they would likely want to try being the Game Master of their own campaign. At that point, my work would be done, and I would be able to enjoy the fruit of my labor by being simply a player in their table-top role-playing games.

If I couldn't find entertainment, then getting someone to create it for me was the next best thing.

Well, it wasn't really the next best thing, but it was as good as it was going to get.

"And when can I play again?" Uncle Gerion Lannister asked.

"When they get safely back to town, you can make a new character. Next time, you should think twice before trying to slay giant fire-breathing spiders."

We were seated around a square table in my room because it was always my room for some reason. Cersei on my left, Jaime in front, and my uncle, Gerion, on my right. On the table was a bunch of parchment and feathers as well as caped ink bottles. To put it simply, we were playing a table-top roleplaying game. Or at least what I could remember of one. I fudged through the rest of the rules or made them simpler. It had been a long time, but I had read through the Game Master's manual and the player's rulebook for a few such games that interested me. Unfortunately, Komachi didn't find it that much fun. Playing with just myself didn't work out so well, so they were probably collecting dust at the bottom of a cardboard box in my closet. That was, if my processions haven't been burned already.

Well, since the books became kind of useless to me, and it was large, thick, and had a hardcover, I had cut out a rectangle in the center of the pages and hid certain magazines in the slot.

I really hope they burned them.

"You enter a quiet and foreboding room. The stone floors are littered in red markings, a sign of a magical incantation. At the center is a shrine. Roll for knowledge check."

Jaime and Cersei each took turns rolling the dice, then adding it to the numbers on their character sheet. Since they weren't proficient at arithmetic, they took a bit more time to do it, with Cersei having to help Jaime in the end. Well, I called it a character sheet, but it was just a blank parchment with some numbers on it. Both of them couldn't read yet, unlike me, but I did teach them numbers up to twenty and how to do addition and subtraction. Well, up to twenty for Cersei; Jaime couldn't seem to comprehend the numbers when it went into the double digits. When they told me the numbers they eventually came to, I nodded.

"Ser Pound recognizes the figure on the shrine. It is the form of the nameless god. It is only then that you notice it beckoning to you, in a sort of silent call that you can't ignore."

Cersei turned to Jaime. "Don't—"

"Ser Lurin walks up to the shrine and slices the statue with his sword!"

"Jaime!"

"The moment the statue breaks, the room darkens and screaming fills the room. The screams are a combination of voices, hundreds of them. Men, women, children. All combined together in a chorus that hurts your ears. The ghastly forms of people start appearing, their bodies so translucent that you can see through them. The moment they are fully formed, they slowly shamble their way towards you."

Cersei put her head into her hands. "And it was going so well."

"It's not my fault!" Jaime pointed down at his character sheet. "Ser Lurin is a religious fanatic. He couldn't let a shrine to a fake god stand."

"Your brother has a point," Gerion said with a nod.

"Not you too, Uncle," Cersei said with a groan of dismay.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting us, before it opened to reveal a maid. She bowed her head to us.

"My lords and ladies, your mother wishes you to the dinner table."

"Oh? Has it really gotten so late?" Gerion rose from his seat. "This game of yours is much more enthralling than I'd expected."

"You're welcome to join us again anytime, Uncle," I said as I rose from my chair. My siblings did so as well. "A seat will always be open for you."

"I'll take you up on that," he said cheerfully. "But we shouldn't keep your Lord father and mother waiting, should we?"

~o~

My mother, Joanna Lannister, was more frequent in our lives. She had her stern side, but she was more often warm and comforting. There was something about her warm smile that reminded me of Yuigahama. In comparison, Tywin Lannister wasn't the most fatherly of men, and he was often busy with the duties of lordship. He usually didn't have much time to spend with his children.

Though in my case, that wasn't quite true considering that I tended to accompany him more often on his duties, but I couldn't imagine it being the same for Jaime and Cersei. Were they jealous of me? I should be jealous of them! Joanna and Tywin were much more lenient to them. If they wanted the attention, they could have it. I would pass it to them if I could. The fact that it would free me from his lessons was just a…side benefit. No, really!

Still, by the time I noticed, my mother's belly had become far more swollen than before. Had it already been a couple of months?

Time. Time passes strangely in the Lannister castle.

Days, weeks, months. It all tended to blend together, especially when I was doing the same things everyday like it was routine. The same Maester teaching, the same sword instructor demonstrating. Only the contents changed; everything else stayed the same.

Until the day it wasn't.

Why do I say that? It is because I found something of great significance, enough that it completely changes everything.

Magic… It exists!

In a little corner of the castle's library, I found a book. Well, a tome, really. It took a little to disperse the cloud of dust that came after I blew it off the cover. The cover itself was rather mundane, with only a golden outline of a triangle on the front. However, the inside was far from ordinary. No matter how I looked at it, it was clearly a magic book.

My medieval fantasy is finally here! No more historical medieval bore simulator for me anymore!

…is what I would like to say, but I came upon a tiny little problem.

It wasn't an instructional book.

Let me clarify further. It was basically a spellbook.

It was written in the language of Westeros, but it was obviously a translation. In my previous life, there had always been those English to Japanese translations, some of which were really good, but then there were also amateur translators who had a bare grasp of either language or used machine translations which were basically using a program to translate for you. This was more like the latter.

I didn't know how much of it was simply obscure terminology or just bad translation, but it probably wasn't a good idea to try any of these. An eye of newt could easily be translated as something like an eyebrow of newt. It was likely that any spell I try would fail, and I didn't know if there would be a backlash. However, when I turned to the very end of the book, I saw what I was looking for.

Written by an author in Asshai and translated by a traveler from Westeros.

I had read a little about the land before, but just barely. It was far on the other side of the map, being in the south-east of the continent of Essos. With what I had, I quickly scoured the library for more information, but there was almost none. Bare mentions about a land of shadow and gloom, buildings of black stone, and people who were perpetually shrouded in masks and veils. Basically, they liked black.

I needed more books in the language of the Asshai'I and a language teacher if I could find one. If I was going to learn magic, I needed to do it right. I would need a ship commissioned to go to Asshai and bring back books, but a round-trip like that would probably take months with this level of technology. Having men scour Westeros for the books had a lower chance of finding something, but it was better than nothing.

The problem was that there was no way I could hide this from Tywin. That meant I had to go through him for this request, and that was a bit difficult. To put it in perspective, most of Westeros were of the Faith of the Seven. It was similar in style to one particular religion from my old world so I had a good idea what it was about even though I only knew scattered tidbits about the details. To say they had a healthy suspicion about magic was the understatement of the year. They were outright fanatical in their disapproval. The old man wasn't much of a believer, but I wouldn't put it past him to be extremely suspicious of it.

So I had to be cautious and plan out my words carefully in order to manipulate him into doing what I wanted.

"Father, can you get me books on magic?"

Unfortunately, I didn't know how to do that, seeing as how I never that much practice in socializing in the first place.

Across his office desk, Tywin Lannister merely raised an eyebrow as he continued to look down at his desk. His writing feather never stopped moving across the parchment, scratching ink onto the paper.

"Tell me why I should indulge this heretical fancy of yours?"

"It's not heretical if you never believed in the religion."

His feather stopped.

"Never say those words beyond these walls," Tywin said, raising his eyes to meet mine for the first time in this conversation.

"Which means I can say it here then," I said, feeling a little relieved with how the conversation was going. However, the hard part was coming. "With the stories of dragons and children of the forests, there is a possibility that it's real."

"I do not deny that magic is real. The Targaryens were proof of that, if nothing else."

"But you are wondering why I want those books. Why I feel that it is necessary even with the risk of it being exposed to the public," I said. "That's because information is power, and the only way to defend against magic is to know magic."

Tywin gave me a stony look, but he still nodded once for me to continue so I did.

"If my uncle dies because of a heart attack, I will want to know if that was an actual heart attack or if it was the work of a death note—I mean sorcery," I quickly corrected. "If you don't know about poisons, how can you cure it? And what is a cure? It is sometimes just another poison being used to fight the original poison. I can't fight against a swordsman if I don't understand the sword arts. Even then, there are many different disciplines in swordsmanship that I might not be able to anyways, but at least, I would have a chance."

"Magic has been disappearing since the last dragon died. What magic is left are just the dubious prophecies of wood witches and the potions of the alchemists," Tywin said plainly.

"There's more to it than that. We need to be ready."

"You speak as if you already know this will be a problem in a future."

"I like to prepare for the worst case scenario." I moved up to the desk. "My fate is my own. I don't want my life to be controlled by the will of some wood witch hiding in a forest. If my destiny is to fall, then I'll fight that fate with everything I have."

Tywin looked stunned with his eyes a fraction wider. Honestly, I would be too if I heard something like that from my six year old son. Six years old. That was like first graders, learning how to add and subtract with blocks. He was silent for a few moments before he put down his inked feather.

"Your idea has merit, flawed as it is," Tywin finally said. "I will make arrangements—"

"Asshai," I said, interrupting him. Seeing his gaze become a degree colder, I quickly followed up on it. "The city of Asshai is a big source of these magic books. Send a ship there to find and bring back as many books as they can. Well, books that follow a certain criteria. I can make a list later."

"Reasonable," Tywin said, "but costly. It would be cheaper and less time consuming to hire an expert to deal with magic for you."

"I don't mind a teacher, but would you trust a stranger with your life? I wouldn't." Seeing Tywin nod his head, I said, "I want to do this myself. In return, I'll do the finances for a month."

Tywin stared at me.

"T-two months."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Three is my final offer!"

I started sweating.

"…six months."

Tywin relented by closing his eyes, letting me give a sigh of relief.

My relief was short-lived.

"In addition, you will be joining me when any lord seeks audience with me for the next three full moons. Hopefully, your negotiation skills improves by the end of it."

Goddamn it.

~o~

Jaime and Cersei were both children full of enthusiasm and energy.

In contrast, I was the complete opposite. As Jaime raced through the hall, followed closely by his two best buddies, a couple of children from bannermen whose names elude me, I trailed after them in a lazy and sluggish walk. I liked to think of it as me being a zombie and they being frightened survivors in an apocalypse. Of course, when one of those survivors, specifically the one named Jaime, came back and dragged me by the wrist, my daydreams died a horrifyingly dull death.

Of course, the other children never protested my presence, though I did feel their nervous reluctance. Or was it caution? In any case, they tried to be friendly out of duty since I was the boy most likely to become the Lord of Casterly Rock in the future; it was most advisable for them to make a connection with me. Most advisable, indeed. It was also most advisable for me to make a connection with them, but if I did it simply because of that reasoning, then I would have listened far more to my homeroom teacher, Hiratsuka Shizuka. However, I didn't before, and I did not have plans to start now.

"If you'd just run a little, we'd be there already," Jaime said.

"If I run, I might trip, fall, and break my neck," I said.

"But you won't."

"I won't," I agreed. "Does that mean I've to run now?"

"If I said yes, would you run?"

"No."

"Then what's the point of asking?" Jaime looked exasperatedly at me.

I didn't answer him as I allowed him to drag me through the hall. The two other children were waiting for us up ahead; one with impatience and the other with nervousness. Only when we passed them did they fall in behind us, at a more sedated pace.

I opened my mouth to say something to them—anything really. I was supposed to get them on my side because they were my future bannermen. To do that, I needed to make small talk and use my charisma to sway them. Not that I knew anything about how to do that. Well, the words were easy enough to think of, but if I had to put it into practice, I would probably end up with enough traumas that I would have to scream into my pillows just to bury the memory whenever it comes up. You would think that it would be easier to do that here, with a castle being bigger than a house, but there were servants and guards everywhere. There was nothing that brought them quicker to your door than hearing you scream.

Why was I so pessimistic? If Cersei were to wink, it would be an adorable and enduring gesture. If Hayama Hayato were to wink, it would be a handsome and cool move. If I were to wink, they would think something was wrong with my eye. I would say the world was unfair, but that was just how it was.

In the end, I simply shut my mouth and continued on.

When we reached a certain room, one of them moved ahead to open the door.

Inside, in the center of the stone room, was a table nearly as long as the room itself. There were several empty chairs, but besides that, there was nothing more in the room. I turned as one of the children closed the door and locked it. I felt a chill go down my spine as I quickly moved away from them, to the other side of the room. Wasn't this…

I frowned. So in the end, it came down to this. For a moment, I wondered who put him up to it, but I supposed it didn't matter at this point. I only had myself to blame for my naivety.

"I never would've guessed it," I mumbled as I slowly moved to the side and placed a hand on the top of a nearby chair. I guessed it goes to show that you couldn't trust family either. Still, I dreaded it so I stalled for time. "Why?"

"I want father to pay attention to me, just like he does with you," Jaime said.

"I see." I slowly moved around the table, my hand moving from chair to chair. "They'll find out."

"They won't if nobody tells them."

"Do you really think that you can do all this without someone seeing something? Hearing something?" My hand gripped the chair that was at the farthest point of the table. If I yelled hard enough, someone would come, but I didn't want to instigate them just yet. I had to time it right.

The other two children sent a nervous glance at Jaime, but he returned it with a glare that shut them up. I really never thought it would end up like this.

"If you're going to do it, then do it. Otherwise, I'm going to leave." I didn't move. All I did was put my other hand on the chair and tighten my grip, preparing myself for the inevitable. I could see Jaime gritting his teeth, as if he was summoning courage. This was it.

"Please teach us about tactics and strategies!"

Huh…?

~o~

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Cersei was slapping down on Jaime's head and back while he was crouching down, trying to shield his head with his hands.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Jaime was crying from the pain. "I didn't know!"

I felt stupid now. I had known Jaime all my life, so I knew he wouldn't do something like what I was thinking. It was just that everything fit so suspiciously well that I couldn't help it. Well, I couldn't deny the possibility at the same time; this was the medieval times after all, and I was the heir. If I went by this way of thinking, this meant I was in the right, and Jaime deserved a little punishment.

So I told Cersei. That worked out fairly well, didn't it?

Until Cersei turned on me and slapped my shoulder.

"Ah!" I leaned away a little. I was sitting down so I couldn't exactly back away. "What was that for?"

"To suspect your brother? Don't you listen to what father says? Family is what's most important!" She began slapping my shoulder. "Trust your family!"

"Ack! Stop! I admit it! I was wrong." I scrambled out of the chair, but Cersei followed behind like a vengeful wraith.

By the end of it, Jaime and I were both sitting in chairs, rubbing our battle wounds—his head and my shoulders respectively. I had to admit I got off a little easier than Jaime. Cersei was sitting in her own seat, looking exasperatedly at us.

Lesson number one: don't make Cersei mad.

"Both of you, use your heads a little more."

Jaime and I solemnly nodded our heads. Once the moment was over, I turned to Jaime.

"I'll teach you, but not them."

"Why not? They're my friends."

"But they aren't mine," I said. "So the answer, for them, is no."

Jaime was frustrated, and it showed. Cersei, on the other hand, just gave me a knowing look. For a temperamental girl of six years, she was pretty smart for her age. I didn't count because I cheated.

"Well, I'll join as well. Somebody has to be here to make sure you two don't do something stupid."

Ah, my cute little sister. She couldn't admit to her true feelings—wait a second, was she a tsundere?! Next thing I know, she would become my childhood friend who…

Oh right, she was my twin sister so it was impossible for me. That meant that somewhere in the castle, there was a childhood harem protagonist living in the shadows. Or could it be one of those scenarios where the main character only shows up once, makes a lasting impression, and forgets about her while she pines for him in the far future?!

No, I won't allow it!

"Hachi, why are you shaking your head?" Cersei asked.

"No time for explanations," I said as I stood up from my seat. "I've to go burn some flags."

"Flag? What are you—wait, Hachi! Come back here!"

~o~

In the end, I never did find the protagonist.

However, I did find something useful. It was an empty room that nobody was using. Big enough for my purposes.

It was in here that I started building the foundation.

Foundations of what, you might ask?

Of my gaming war room.

It took a few weeks, but by the end of it, I had a massive map of the world laid out on the floor. I had thought about hiring a painter to simply paint on the floor, but the flooring wasn't smooth. So I had the painter recreate the map onto a massively large block of wood. It was technically made up of several planks, closely packed together. That was why there was sometimes a tiny line of gap in between each plank which annoyed me, but I couldn't do anything about it without having to replace the whole thing.

My victory over Tywin left a bitter taste in my mouth. It wasn't because of a honorable notion or anything like that. Most children would have reveled in it, but I wasn't a child. I had never been an adult either, but I was too old to be fooled by how easy it was. Because of the lack of real rules, it was more like a test than a game. What was the difference? In a test, he would go through with an action even though he personally knows it to be wrong, simply to see if I choose the right answer. How could I be satisfied from something like that? It was the difference of answering a question in a textbook versus a question in a game show. Basically, singleplayer versus multiplayer.

That was why I had started work on this room. I had been given a lot of leeway when I explained to Tywin what this was about, but this was still only one part of it. In order for this room to be useful, I needed to make the rules. A turn-based strategy game had to have rules that covers all aspects of it, not just combat. I wanted to include governance of the land as well. Ruling, taxes, recruitment. Maybe even have a deck of cards for random events. Possibly multiple decks that depended on certain conditions.

It was a grand idea, but I was doing it from memory so it was difficult. Balance was not much of an issue though, since the idea around balance was based around the idea to make all units, armies, and factions be viable. Of course, this did not hold much favor in this world where it was better to use realism and make it as accurate as possible. As such, I wasn't going to worry about balance when I put together the unit stats, with input from their real-life counterparts.

It was going to be difficult to put out a rulebook. An eraser was not something that existed yet, and the amount of parchment I would need was staggering. Still, I was itching to dip the feather into the ink and scratch out words onto parchment. The anticipation of my impending entertainment at the end was more than enough to excite me.

Tywin would probably want me to keep my rulebook a secret though, only privy to those of the Lannister family and trusted friends. I didn't think it was too much of a big deal, and I would have spread it around to get better and better opponents, but I supposed that if I do that, it would also increase the military prowess of our rivals. Still, even if they were to play it, I doubted they could remember all the rules and such, not to mention the updates I would have to implement to fix up the game. I had no doubts that I would have to eventually expand it too with expansions. I could probably sell a copy of the rulebook for plenty of gold dragons, even if it wasn't up to the quality of what I remembered in my past memories. I would probably have to put the rulebook in safebox to keep it safe because that kind of money would tempt many.

Well, that was useless thinking since I haven't even started writing it. It was going to be awhile, but it wasn't like I had much else to do.

~o~

A/N: A little bit slow this chapter. Setting up a few things.


	3. Chapter 3: Birth (273 AC)

Chapter 3: Birth (273 AC)

~o~

Months passed by in a flash, the only real notable event being our seventh birthday. Even then, that passed by without much fanfare.

In that time, I had accumulated a large amount of parchment. It had been costly, yes, but I knew that it would be necessary. For now, though, I mainly used it for my games and to write down notes for myself.

There were a lot that I had to make notes for. I had a batch of parchment bound into a book, and I wrote into it with a language that couldn't be understood by others: Japanese. It had first started as my Book of Grudges, but it had evolved beyond that. It included notes on things from my old world, things that might be producible in this world. Some were relatively easy to think of like a printing press—just make it into a giant stamp—while others were more difficult like a real toilet that could flush. Some things I didn't know how to make like actual paper made from wood rather than parchment made from animal skin, while others were just impossible like computers. Still, I wrote it down anyways in case there was some kind of inspiration. It was just idle thinking really, since I didn't really know how flushing worked exactly, but based on what seemed to be their level of difficulty, I jotted down the book any idea that I thought up. The pages filled up quickly at first, but now, it was a lot slower.

Not that there was much to do right now, I thought wryly as I sat with my back pressed against the wall. Jamie and Cersei were sitting down next to me, chit-chatting as always. However, the circumstances were definitely different. We were outside our parents' bedchambers, in the hallway, awaiting for the arrival of the newest addition to our little family.

Back when Komachi was born, I was too young to remember much of it. If it was anything like how it was now, then I was glad I couldn't remember. Joanna's labored screams echoed past the closed door, making a chorus that grated all too wrongly in my ears. While it is a "magical" process where everyone should be happy, I believed all of that would come only after the birth itself. Before then, it felt as if I was listening to nails on a chalkboard. Not that I ever heard nails screeching on a chalkboard before, but I assumed it would be just as painful as this.

The funny thing was that after awhile, I got used to the sound. It just seemed to blend together into an endlessly swirl..ing…

~o~

"Wake up, child." It was only after a hand shook me that I woke up. The Maester was shaking my shoulder. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I took a look around. The skies were dark now, and the torches' flames flickered constantly, leaving ever-changing shadows behind. The hallway was virtually deserted except for a few servants and guards.

"Where's Jaime and Cersei?"

"Your brother and sister are inside. They've just entered."

"So it's done?"

"Your youngest brother has been born, but there were complications…" He looked conflicted.

"Tell me," I said.

"Your mother did not survive the birthing, and your brother—"

I didn't wait for him to finish before rushing to my feet and storming into the room. Inside, I found my siblings weeping at the bedside while my father stood stoically beside them, his face harder than granite. On the bed, my mother's body, including her face, was covered by a blanket, but I could still see some of the bloodied sheets peeking out from underneath. Seeing all this, remembering, I didn't feel the urge to cry. All I felt was a seeping coldness, like a touch of frost in my spine.

"How?" I barely managed to voice the question. My mouth was dry.

"The child was born the wrong way," the maester said as he walked up behind me. "Your mother labored, and the child survived, but she did not."

"That… Then a C-section?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing." What was I thinking? I knew. I knew a way in which she could have been saved, but I was thinking in modern terms with doctors and technology that simply didn't exist in this time. Not that I knew how to do it even if I had the equipment. Having been a high school student at most, the method on how to do a Cesarean section was obvious not something that would come up in a class lesson. Even if I could have somehow perform the surgery, cutting open her abdomen and uterus, there was no antibiotics to prevent the infection that would likely occur in a non-sterile room. The only way to deal with infection in this era was to cauterize it. So what could I even do? Sew it up and burn her organs shut? The very thought of it would have made me turn green, if I wasn't already pale.

I felt helpless. I didn't want to look at… I didn't want to look anymore. I turned my gaze away with more than a little guilt, even though there was nothing I could have done.

Off to the side, I saw a cradle. There was baby moving and softly crying in there, but there were no maids attending to it. I moved over and looked down into the cradle. It was only then that I understood why.

"Maester, what exactly happened?"

The Maester solemnly came to my side. "Your brother was born deformed, young lion."

"The affliction?"

"I do not know, but I will endeavor to find out."

"He is my brother," I said. "Do what you can."

"Yes." The Maester looked down into the cradle, his eyes filled with pity. "I shall."

~o~

The funeral had been somber. My siblings wept, and my father remained stoic throughout. He was in pain; it was clear to anyone who looked at his face for longer than a few seconds, but he kept his emotions in well. I didn't think it was right, keeping it all bottled in, but I could hardly tell him otherwise since my own face was stoic, except for a different reason. I just felt very little.

It was strange. I felt a cold grip running down my neck, but I think that was from guilt more than anything else. I knew I should be feeling sad or angry, yet what came to me was only this strange calmness and the guilt that told me I should be feeling more. As it was, I think people thought I was being extremely mature for my age, a result of my supposed genius. However, I knew the truth, and it weighed on me.

When the ceremony came to an end, I walked away. While they were crying and weeping over the patch of dirt that now covered the grave, I simply walked away.

When I reached my room, I went to sleep even though it was the middle of the day.

I woke up during the night.

I lied awake, crumpled in my bed.

With not a soul to hear.

~o~

The Maester eventually diagnosed my brother's affliction as dwarfism. From what he could tell, my youngest brother, Tyrion, was weak in body, such that he had to be handled carefully. However, even then, it was estimated that he wouldn't survive past a few months at most. As I walked into the room that had become his, I noticed once again that there was only one maid in attendance, and she seemed to be trying her best to ignore the crying child. She seemed to wake up the moment she saw me, rushing over to the cradle, but I waved her off.

She would do her duty when I come, but the moment that I was gone, she would become apathetic again. I understood why, even if I didn't approve. There were rumors that were going around the castle, rumors that had eventually entered my ear—well, actually, they entered Jaime or Cersei's ears before coming down to me. The rumors spoke of a devil child with demonic physical attributes like claws and wings and such. Obviously, it was spread around by people who hadn't seen Tyrion yet, but I wouldn't imagine their opinion about the child would change if they saw him, especially since Tywin was doing his best to ignore the child's existence. The maids only did the bare minimum for the baby.

In fact, only I did anything more. Jaime came around a couple of times, but only to stare at the baby. Cersei, on the other hand, hated Tyrion. I knew that I couldn't let that go on for much longer, but for now, she was still in mourning. They were all in mourning.

Reaching into the cradle, I brought him out of it with some effort. The moment that I touched him, he had stopped crying. I wasn't strong, but because of his condition, he weighed less than a normal infant. Even then, It was actually a bit difficult. The maid, of course, didn't stop me, but I half-suspected that she was hoping I would drop him. He didn't look robust so the fall alone could break a lot of his bones, maybe even kill him. It would be considered an accident rather than kin-slaying, especially considering that I was six years old—oh wait, seven years old.

"So how are you today, Tyrion?" I shifted his weight in my arms. The baby giggled.

This honestly felt awkward. I wasn't good with babies and spending time with them wasn't what I considered fun, but nobody else was doing it. That alone reminded me of…of things. Things that I would rather forget.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today." I lowered Tyrion back into his cradle. Turning to the maid, I opened my mouth to say something, but I froze, an old fear holding sway over me. Was it right for me to chastise her? She wasn't doing her duty properly, but at the same time, if she did, if she was seen as being sympathetic to Tyrion—even falsely—would she become an outcast too? I was about to shut my mouth and leave, but then I remembered Komachi. Even with everything as it was, Tyrion was family.

"Take care of him better or I'll find someone who will."

I turned without waiting for a response—though I did see a glimpse of her surprised expression—and left the room.

The castle was large, but I knew my way around; I had been stuck in here for seven years, after all. It wasn't long before I reached my room, but that was when things turned sour. Waiting in there, sitting in a chair by the table, was an irate Cersei.

"You were with him again, weren't you?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"So what? So what?!" Cersei stood up from her seat. "Don't you know that little monster killed our mother? Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

"How?"

"How what?"

"How did he kill her?"

"What do you mean how? You know how!" Cersei shouted. "She gave birth to him, and he murdered her in return!"

"And how did he kill her?"

"I just told you."

"No, I mean specifically. How did he kill her? Give me the exact details."

"I…I don—"

"Did he stab her with a dagger?"

"No, he—"

"Did he poison her?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Did he plot against her?"

"That's not—"

"Did he claw his way out? Did he eat his way out? Did he start using magic?"

"That's not possible, he's just a…" Cersei froze.

"Just a what? A baby? A monster? A demon?" I measured her as I gazed at her.

"That's… He shouldn't have been born."

"Is it a crime to be born?"

"Yes!"

"Then is my birth is a crime?"

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant. He's different from us."

"How is he different?" I asked sternly. "Father gave a little of himself and mother gave a little of herself to make us. They did the exact same thing to make Tyrion."

"He's different from us! He's tainted."

"Tainted? Okay, so who tainted him then? Father? Mother? Which of them messed up Tyrion but not us?"

"No, not them. It's Tyrion."

"Why would he taint himself? How could he? Did he perform dark sorceries in the womb so he could be born a beautiful child? Why would anyone want to be born deformed?"

"Well—that's—then somebody else!"

"Somebody else? You mean they cursed Tyrion and mother? Poisoned them? Used black magic?"

"I…I don't know!"

"So they cursed Tyrion to kill her mother through birth and be born deformed. Is that it?"

"I…that's…"

"Curse or not, that could have been us. That could easily have been us," I said. "I could have been with one leg, Jaime with one arm, and you with two heads. What if you had been born without a tongue? Without a nose? Without beauty? What if—"

"Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

I looked into her teary eyes, holding the gaze.

"Regardless of everything, you're my sister, even if you had two heads. No matter what you look like, if I don't care about you, who will?"

She turned away. Trying to keep her gaze away from me, she moved around the table. Just as she was about to walk past me, I spoke.

"Cersei, one last thing."

Cersei stopped.

"Judge him based on his actions. Judge him based on his personality," I said. "But don't judge him for something he has no control over. If someone does us harm, then find him and make him pay. However, make sure that person really is truly guilty. Nobody strikes at the Lannister family in the daytime, not even a Lannister."

She said nothing in response as she walked to the door and left the room.

Once she was gone, I started regretting what I said. Some of the things I told her were on the spur of the moment.

Well, the idea was already planted. It was too late now.

"This was a lot easier when it was just Komachi."

~o~

I watched the sands in the hour glass tick down, counting time in the way it was before the advent of the sundial and waterclock. If I knew how to invent a clock, I would probably be swimming in gold dragons by now, but the mechanics of the gears were far beyond me. In fact, most of the things from my old world was far beyond me; I could recreate some of the simpler stuff using what I remember of it, but things like computers were far beyond me. Well, I couldn't use it anyways because I would have to create something to generate electricity like a windmill which I didn't know the first thing about.

"Is Cersei coming?" Jaime was seated in a chair across the square table from me. On the table was a thick parchment that had an map outline of a dungeon. There were some wooden figurines on top, denoting characters and monsters, as well as two hollow metal dices in a bowl. The corners of the dices were sharp so we had to start using the bowl instead of the table because it was ripping into the parchment.

"Probably not." The sands in the hour glass was about a fourth of the way through so it had been roughly fifteen minutes. She was probably angry with me after our talk yesterday. Maybe she even hated me. That was fine since that was what I was aiming for.

Hate was a destructive thing. It was better for her to hate me than it was to hate Tyrion. This wasn't logic born out of any real emotional attachment to my baby brother. No, it was a logic formed from my prediction on her fate if she continued down that route. The hate that she bore for Tyrion was as passionate as revenge. She blamed the baby for her mother's death. Would you be able to stare everyday at someone who murdered someone precious to you everyday without flinching? I couldn't. Even if she doesn't attempt an assassination, the hatred and resentment that would build up in her, poisoning her.

I had a responsibility to stop that. Even if all that hatred transfered over to me, it would still be a lesser hate. A far lesser one that wouldn't grow as poisonous. One that wouldn't destroy her from the inside out. If it was just that, I could handle it. In fact, I would welcome it.

This wasn't the only path, but this was mine. Mine alone.

I got up from my seat, pulled a book off the shelf, and pulled over a seat to sit next to Jaimie. "It's not that fun with only one player so let's do something else. I heard you're having trouble with the reading lessons from Maester Kail."

Jaimie nodded. I had more advanced lessons nowadays for obvious reasons so we had lessons with Maester Kail at different times.

"Okay, let's see what's going on." I opened the book.

It took quite a while before I noticed something was wrong. It took even more time to figure out the problem.

Jaime had dyslexia. He couldn't read the words correctly because the letters in each word were getting jumbled up.

After that, I spoke extensively with Maester Kail on it. He didn't believe me at first, but I was adamant about it. In the end, he changed his lesson plans, and I decided to devote more of my private time on this. I forced Jaime to go along with it. It wasn't going to be easy, not by a long shot.

And it certainly wasn't.

He got frustrated, and he got discouraged. He screamed at me, and he yelled at me. He hated me, and he hated himself.

Slowly, bit by bit, I taught him. When he got sad, I encouraged him. When he cried, I comforted him, soothing him through the trials and tribulations.

We did make progress. After a few weeks, he could read a few basic sentences. It took him a little while to unjumble the words in his mind, but I hoped that eventually, it would become automatic for him. Eventually, Cersei started coming around again as if nothing ever happened. She avoided the topic of Tyrion, and I didn't feel that I should broach the subject either. Things started to feel like normal again, especially when we resumed the games.

Of course, there was an interruption to this in the form of a mother and her two teenage children. They came to visit Casterly Rock from the north, even though they hailed from the deep south.

The Martells.

~o~

From the battlements, I watched the procession of caravans slowly make their away across the drawbridge and into the castle. Well, castle was putting it lightly. When I was old enough that I first saw to the extent of how large Casterly Rock was, I was shocked to the core. To put it into perspective, Casterly Rock was situated out on a mountain of rock sticking out of the water, such that some parts of the mountain nearly reached up to the height of a skyscraper. The castle itself finished the rest of the distance in height, but the biggest thing was that the castle was huge. The length and width extended to such extent that it was probably roughly the size of a small town in Japan. That was how ridiculously massive this castle was.

"M'lord." I turned to find one of the armored guards next to me, bowing his head. "Your lord father requests your presence."

"For the first greeting?"

"Yes, M'lord."

I nodded my head and started to head down from the battlements.

When I arrived at the lower bailey, I found the Martells were already disembarking from their carriages. Tywin and my two siblings were there, waiting with a scattered array of relatives, nobles, and knights. As I walked up to my father, I took in the appearance of the three nobles.

The first ruling princess of Dorne, Meryl Martell, was a graceful and petite woman. Although beautiful in an orthodox way, she wasn't memorable.

Oberyn was a handsome boy, athletically fit with a charming smile. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a harem protagonist; he was the type of ikemen that would certainly fit the profile. However, he was a decade older than me, far too old to fit the childhood friend trope with Cersei.

Elia was a frail and slender beauty. Well, I said beauty, but it was more of the cute variety, the type you would see as a mascot rather than an attention grabber.

"Ah, there you are. Come over here, Hachi." Tywin waved his hand at me, beckoning me over. Of course, I complied and walked over to his side.

"Father." I nodded my head at him.

"These are the Martells. Friends of your mother," Tywin said. "Your brother and sister have already given their greetings. Introduce yourself."

I nodded and turned to the three guests. With a small bow, I said simply, "My name is Hachi Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock."

After that, they introduced themselves. It was a pretty standard affair, and there was a bit of chitchat amongst them all, which I declined in joining in on. After that, my siblings and I were somehow charged with giving the two Martell children a small tour of Casterly Rock. Seeing that Casterly Rock had a length that stretched up leagues, I doubted we would get much sight-seeing through, though I supposed that was the point.

As we walked, I could see that Jaime and Cersei were chatting and giggling while Oberyn and Elia were responding in the restrained way adults would treat children.

"You're a quiet child, aren't you?" I didn't know when, but Oberyn had walked up to my side, leaving Elia to conspire with my siblings. "Don't be shy. I don't bite much."

"There's no point in talking. Why bother?"

"There are many reasons. Meeting new people, seeing new places. I come from the sands of Dorne, and I traveled through the city of Oldtown to get here. Don't you want to know about them?"

"No. I can find a less biased account in books."

"A smart child, being able to read at such an age. But books can't contain the spice of life that you get from seeing it yourself or hearing it from another."

"Spice of life?" My eyes narrowed. "Youth is a lie."

Oberyn blinked in surprise. "A lie?"

"It is evil. Those who sing praise for the 'springtime of youth' are constantly deceiving themselves and those around them. They're completely engrossed, as if hypnotized, in the atmosphere. If it's for the sake of their 'youth,' they'll distort common sense and even reject social norms. For them, things like lies, secrets, sins, and failures are just spices of life. If things like failure are the signs of youth, then the people who fail to make any friends are in full bloom during this 'springtime of youth'? Well, I'm sure that's something they would refuse to acknowledge. It's all a double standard set by them. My conclusion is: those fools who enjoy the 'springtime of life' should go and freaking die."

Oberyn opened his mouth for a moment, as if trying to say something, before closing it. He tilted his head slightly, then tilted it the other way. I could see him mulling over the drastic truth I had given him. In the end, he went for a simple conclusion.

"You're a very unusual child, aren't you? With quite an extensive vocabulary."

"I once thought that I would like to be reborn as a bear if I die. Instead, I became like this."

"I don't understand…?"

"Bears are creatures that refused to form groups with others, living a solitary life. They hibernate when the weather is cold, sleeping for mon—for a long time." I fumbled the words since seasons in the world lasted for generations instead of months. "What a wonderful existence."

I think he understood my point after that because he decided to do the exact opposite and pester me endlessly.

~o~

"You come across a burnt down village. The buildings are blackened and many parts are simply ash, yet the stone masonry is mostly intact. Littering the ruins are charred skeletons, unburied and un-mourned. In the midst of it all, you see a knight in black armor that covers him from head to toe. Before you can do anything, he turns his head and spots you all. He says, 'What are two knights, a wildling spearwife, and a maester doing in this ruined village? Have you come for my head?'"

"Missy shakes her body, making her melon breasts jiggle. She blows a kiss towards the knight," Oberyn said.

Cersei and Elia stared at him in disgust.

"Seduction is a valid action," Oberyn said in defense.

"It is," I confirmed. "But you have no points in that skill so he's immune to your charms."

"Well, Maester Kull walks in between Missy and the knight. He says to the black knight, 'We came upon this village by chance'." Elia quickly scribbled another note onto her character sheet.

"Roll 2d6 and add diplomacy," I said.

"What? Why?!"

"To see if he believes you."

Elia pouted, but she took the two dices and rolled them in the bowl. When the dices came to a stop, she grimaced at the results.

"It's three plus my four in diplomacy so seven."

"The black knight is not convinced. He pulls out his sword and charges. Roll for initiative."

To put it into perspective, we were all playing the table-top roleplaying game. Well, it was either this or another long tour of Casterly Rock. With Oberyn constantly pestering me, it wasn't like I could avoid them either. No matter how hard I tried, and I tried pretty hard.

It had been a few days since they arrived, and I couldn't say too much had changed. While Jaime and Cersei always had loads of questions to bug them with about the world outside Casterly Rock, I was the opposite. There was nothing that I really needed to ask, even though I hadn't been outside. Honestly, I haven't even visited Lannisport yet, and that city was just a mile south of here.

After this much time, it was hard not to have an evaluation of the two Martells.

Oberyn was overconfident and brash, suave in a way that made this combination dangerous. He was basically an ikeman who didn't care about the consequences of his actions. As you could imagine, it was going to lead him to trouble in the future. I suspected he would have a trove of bastard children and yandere lovers. Serves him right, this damn riajuu bastard.

Elia, on the other hand, was kind and frail. Why was the trait "frail" important? Because it causes "kindness" to be created from "naivety." She hasn't seen nor experienced much of the world, due to her affliction. People probably didn't tell her much because of that same reason, to leave her innocence intact. That would leave her viewpoint being as naive as it was when she was a decade younger. If I had to sum her up in medieval terms, she was a caged princess. If I had to sum her up in modern terms, she was a hikikomori since kindergarden. Why not elementary school? Because she hadn't experienced the extensive bullying that results in becoming a hikokomori—wait, that meant she wasn't even a hikikomori. Oh right! She was born with an incurable disease and hospitalized since she was very, very little. This one made more sense. She could even star in her own television drama where she would be the bright and optimistic young girl who would tragically die in the last episode, leaving housewives in tears across the continent. Also the type to be corrupted in doujins.

In any case, I hate kind girls. The truly kind type, not the ones that fake it. That was because you would misunderstand their kindness. They weren't only kind to you; they were kind to everyone. I fell for that trick many times, and it was hole of despair once I realized the truth. Well, I had already realized the "truth" after the first time, but I couldn't help misunderstanding them time and time again. It was only after so many times that I finally reached enlightenment by losing all hope. Once you lost hope, there was no reason to misunderstand. I had become a buddha. In fact, I had become Great Bodhisattva Hachiman, interested only in archery and war—

Stop, stop. I had to put a brake on that train of thought before I started sounding like Zaimokuza.

In any case, I hate kind girls. This required a second mentioning. Naive kind girls were worse because you generally couldn't know their real personality until they had been truly exposed to the world. It was like buying a mystery gacha ball and waiting until later to open it to find out you had gotten a common rank D toy and not a rare collectible. By then, you could be stuck with her for life.

The thing about Westeros was that divorce didn't really exist in any real form. It was pretty much until one or the other dies, which was a big reason for people to have paramours on the side or frequent the many brothels that littered the land. Well, there was a way to get it annulled, but that was as likely to happen as an eclipse.

"The black knight stabs Missy in the chest for five damage. Missy's health is now negative one. She falls to the floor and starts bleeding out."

"He missed her breasts, yes?" Oberyn asked.

"Yes, he stabbed in between her breasts," I responded in a deadpan voice.

"That's good. That's good," he said. "At least, she poisoned him for the rest of you."

"I rolled a twelve!" Jaime raised his hands in excitement. "It's a crit."

"Ser Lurin charges in and swings his sword upward, slashing the black knight's chest and knocking off his helmet for eight damage. Instead of a face, you see a skull with red glowing eyes. It opens its mouth and growls at you menacingly. You recognize him as a skeleton knight. As you can guess, poison doesn't work on monsters with no flesh."

"Damn it!" Oberyn threw his character sheet into the air in frustration. He pointed an accusing finger at me. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." Yes, I was.

You should have thought of that before you chose something I could abuse.

~o~

A/N: I have to admit that I agonized over this decision with Joanna. I weighed the pros and cons before I decided. That section was also kind of sloppy because I kept getting urge to go the other way, and when I did go the other way, I felt the urge to come right back this way. Eventually, I was like, "Screw it, let's finish this." It was hard not to backslide even when I was re-reading it over to correct errors.

I couldn't help but throw in a rant from the light novel. Probably because I really like it, and I didn't want it to stay as an inner monologue. As for the name of the Princess, of course it's made-up. There was never an official name in canon so I had to make do with what I had.


	4. Chapter 4: Martell

Chapter 4: Martell

~o~

"What are you doing here, Oberyn?"

"I'm helping out with your combat practice."

"Of course, of course," I said. "But really, what are you doing here?"

"I just told you," Oberyn said in a chiding tone as if he was speaking to a child. Which he was, but it was still annoying since I wasn't really a child—in mental years. "I've volunteered to help you and your brother and your sister gain more experience fighting spear users."

"When are we ever going to need that?" Cersei asked in an arrogant voice. "Only smallfolk use spears."

"Oh, am I a smallfolk?" Oberyn asked in a playful manner.

"Well, no…"

"Hm? I hear hesitation. Do you think me a desert savage?"

"No! I-I mean, no, of course not."

"Then what do you think of me? Am I not charming?"

"Ah, that's…" Cersei blushed. Nope, nope, I wasn't having this. Go die in a fire, harem protagonist.

"Oi, are you done with the teasing?" I asked as I swung my wooden sword a couple of times to get used to its weight once again.

"Of course, my lord. Whenever you're ready, my lord. We can start anytime, my lord. As soon as your instructor allows it, my lord."

"Go lord yourself to death."

The master-at-arms, our sword instructor, took this time to step in. "None of that now. We're starting."

The lecture this time was different than usual. Instead of talking about swords, he went into length about spears. How to fight and counter them. The dangers of fighting a formation of spearmen from the front and the weaknesses of such a army. I knew what this was leading to, especially when Oberyn was allowed to demonstrate for us some of the basic moves that men-at-arms would likely use, though he had to use a wooden staff instead of a regular spear. Of course, in the end, it led to the practice spars against Oberyn, a guy a decade older than us.

"I'll only punish you once for every ten attempts," Oberyn said cheerfully. He didn't even try to say it in a nicer way. If you only looked at the provocation at face value, you wouldn't see the importance of those two words. By "punish," he meant that he will absolutely, without a doubt, strike without missing. By attempt, he meant—of course—that we wouldn't even be able to touch him. My conclusion is: he is an asshole.

Jamie, the most hot-headed of us all, went up first. I doubted my brother found the hidden insult, otherwise he would be bursting into flames. Despite the skill that I knew he had, his round was still pretty much in line with expectations. By that, I meant that he wasn't able to touch Oberyn at all and was nursing his bruises by the end.

Cersei went up next. The results were relatively the same, though the punishments from Oberyn weren't the welt-inducing strikes that he gave Jamie; instead, it was simply gentle taps which served to further enrage Cersei. We had to restrain her after she threw her practice sword at Oberyn and lunged at him.

The one to fight last was me. I wasn't idle throughout the two matches against my siblings; I had put my observation skills to the test. It was now time to see if it paid off. I wasn't confident, but how could I be? I didn't have the skills in swordplay that Jaime and Cersei had, but I had my own tactics. If Jaime was the razor wind and Cersei was the raging fire, then I was spiraling water, drilling my way to the heav—okay, that wasn't going to work.

I placed my trap card on the field, face-down.

It's time to du-du-du-duel!

"Why did you stutter?" Oberyn asked.

"Trust me. It was necessary."

"You're a most confusing boy," Oberyn said as he readied his staff. "But I don't dislike children like you."

"Do I need to worry about protecting my chastity?"

"Not today, but just for that insinuation, this wooden staff will become acquainted on your behind. Sitting shall be a chore for you."

"I'd very much like to avoid that."

"A man must face the consequences of his decisions bravely."

"You do realize I'm still on my seventh nameday, right?"

"It's never too early to start becoming a man."

As I began to circle his still form, setting up the battlefield, an errant thought came to my mind. References. I had been using a lot of references to my old life these days. I didn't really do it back then, in Japan, but now that I didn't have access to the source material—couldn't ever watch, read, or play them again—I felt a longing nostalgia. Even the worse of them seemed better now that I was deprived of them entirely. Maybe I kept saying these references because I wanted to be reminded, wanted to keep that memory alive. If I closed my eyes, I could still remember the plot, the characters, their personalities, and vaguely their faces. However, I knew that wasn't going to last. Seven years had already passed me by. Would I forget completely in seven more years? What about two decades down the line? Three? Forgetting was letting go of that life, and I didn't want to do that.

His staff struck out, hitting my chest. It wasn't a hard strike, but it still stung.

"Keep your mind on the fight, or you'll have already lost, little brother."

"I'm not your brother, and I thought you weren't going to retaliate until I tried ten times." As I move around him, I tried to spot his weaknesses. With the powers of my discerning eye that I may need to get an eyepatch for, I found none.

"Missed opportunities count. Time is not your friend, my friend."

"I'm not your friend either."

"Then how would you classify our close relationship?"

"Acquaintances."

"A cruel blow. A cruel blow indeed. Worth ten attempts." He struck out with his staff, but this time, I was ready. I sidestepped out of the way and knocked the shaft aside with my practice sword.

"You're not even trying to stick to your own rules, are you?!"

"Rules are made to be broken. Especially if they're your own."

"If you can't follow your own rules, nobody's going to trust you."

"Who needs trust? All one needs is strength, wit, and charm."

"You'd fit right in with a Dothraki horde," I said even I continued to circle him. I subtly kicked a pebble onto his path.

"No," Oberyn said with a shake of his head. "Too many rules there."

"You're pretty twisted, aren't you?"

"We're of a kind, you and I."

"Don't group me with you."

"No, hear me out, you and I are—" Oberyn slipped on a pebble.

You just activated my trap card.

I rushed in to bring my wooden sword to bear on his throat and end the fight. However, before I could do so, he swung his staff while lying on the ground, catching me by the ankles. I crashed down to floor, losing my grip on my sword. He rolled over onto me and pressed the shaft of his staff against my collar bone.

"Yield?" When I nodded, Oberyn rolled off of me. His annoying smirk was stuck on his face. "That was clever. I didn't notice you leading me onto that small rock, but don't think that a fallen opponent is a helpless one."

"I'll keep that in mind." That hadn't work out quite like I thought it would. I pushed myself up and got up to my feet, taking a few seconds thereafter to brush myself off. Picking up my sword, I saw Oberyn get up. "Another round?"

"You'll hear no disagreement from me," Oberyn said as he readied his staff.

I couldn't fight Oberyn in a fair fight, plain and simple. He was older than me, meaning that he packed more trained muscles in his arms than I had in my entire body. He was stronger and faster than me, and I very much doubted I could even reach that point even if I was the same age. The graceful way he moved showed how much practice he put in, making it become an instinct in his body rather than a thought-out skill. Any conventional strike I could do, he would counter using instinct long before his mind would catch up. Most people would admit their loss and take this chance to improve their skills.

I wasn't like most people. I wanted to win.

Like Hayama, Oberyn was the type of person that I couldn't get along with. I could name a number of reasons why. His charisma, his good looks, his flippant personality. Yet, in the end, it was all of those and none of those. I couldn't pinpoint it down, but I knew that there was no recourse.

So I fought with everything I had.

~o~

And I still lost horribly.

I was lying on the ground, covered in bruises and welts. Every time I was put down, I kept coming back to try again. Again and again. I honestly didn't know what was keeping me going. I suppose, if anything, it was pride and hate.

"That was dirty," Oberyn said as he stood above me.

"History is written by the winners," I replied.

"As the winner, I say it's dirty," he said. "But I like dirty moves like that."

"It didn't gain me victory."

"If I had been a lesser man, then maybe." He crouched down beside me. "You've a bright mind, thinking up so many tricks from dirt and rocks."

"That's all there is." It was a training arena within Casterly Rock after all.

"Yes, I imagine if you ever come to know a forest or a desert, you'll be worth your weight in gold."

"Maybe."

"Are you planning to ever get up?"

"Not today," I said. "Not today."

~o~

Eventually, I got carried to my room and nursed the whole day by the maester.

I had spent so much effort, but I still lost in the end. The thing that bothered me, however, was the fact that I didn't really feel much about it after the fact. I didn't feel the burning desire to improve nor did I see a real reason for using so much effort except for spite. In fact, what I felt was resignation.

This, more than anything, showed that I wasn't the protagonist.

I disliked him, but not nearly enough to put him in my book of grudges. He wasn't malicious in anything he had done so far so I couldn't find it in myself to begrudge him. That could be considered a good thing, in a way. If I really hated him and committed some secret heinous acts against him, I would probably be relegated to smallfry status, especially against a harem protagonist like him. The only fate a smallfry had was to be stepped on, and I didn't plan on becoming a masochist anytime soon.

I sighed as I flipped the pillow so I could lay my head down on a less warm spot. That was right, wasn't it? He had the harem protagonist conditions mostly met so it wouldn't be surprised if Cersei was to be engaged to him by the end of this visit or if they used a pinkie promise for some destined reunion. Of course, if there was such a promise, Oberyn would just give it to please the child and soon forget about it, while she would remember and pine for the day. Probably a decade would pass before she would return to his life and actively pursue him in spite of any obstacles like a pesky wife and kids from a previous or current marriage.

…on second thought, I really did need to put a stop to this.

For that, I needed a plan. It didn't take long for me to think of one.

Unfortunately, it was a painful one.

~o~

Later on, when people looked back on this period of time, they would say that I followed Oberyn everywhere when I was younger, like a chick following a mother hen.

Of course, the reality was that it was actually a painful experience to me. Worse was the fact that I suspected that Oberyn knew that it was painful for me, though I doubted he knew for what reason I was doing it for. A couple of days after our match, I asked him to teach me the art of spear-fighting. Of course, I realized now that it was a mistake, but at the time, it seemed like the best reason for me to stay close to him. As long as I was there and carefully watching, there would be no time for a clandestine meeting between Oberyn and Cersei. They didn't really seem that interested in each other, but I knew—from Japanese mass media—that all it took was one event. One moment in time for the effects to butterfly out into a lifetime.

Since I was pretty much glued to Oberyn, that by extension meant that I was stuck with Elia as well. The girl was shy and timid, so much so that she constantly stuck by Oberyn even though they were teenagers already. That meant that I spent a lot of time with her as well, even though she didn't really speak too much. Well, even that much was a big difference, I found out, since she was actually even more shy around the older nobles in the household. I supposed she was more comfortable with me since I was much younger than her. She was a nice girl, but this "nice" front was used for everyone, and that became pretty obvious to me after spending this much time with her. Like I said before, I hate nice girls.

On the more fortunate side of things, it turned out I have a knack for spears. With sword fighting, I always got more pressured the closer I was to my opponent, a bit of a habit that I kept from my previous life. However, the increased range of the spear helped to alleviate much of that for me. It relied a lot more on position and spacing, a more of a hit and run style if you were to solely use piercing strikes. The shaft was used for more skillful maneuvers or to simply just bash your opponents. I wasn't up to that level, but I was improving with the spear far faster than the sword. Perhaps, I could become Lu Bu and star in my own Dynasty Warrior game.

In any case, after a month, the visit finally drew to a close. In only a few more days, they would be leaving along with their mother for Dorne.

"Hachi," Tywin said as he approached the three of us standing in the courtyard.

"Father." I nodded to him.

"A word, child." He walked off to the side, and I followed him. Only when we got to a suitable distance did he began to speak again. "I heard you've been following them around for weeks."

"I have my reasons," I said stiffly. He nodded in response.

"Anything I should be made aware of?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"What do you think of them?"

"They're nice people, I guess." I knew where this was going so I decided to stop it. "Father, I don't think it's a good idea for Cersei to be paired with Oberyn. It won't work out."

"She won't be."

I nodded in relief. That was easy.

"You, however, will be," Tywin said. "You are to marry to Princess Elia to establish an alliance with the Dornish."

What the fuck.

~o~

"So…I'm to be engaged to you, I guess," I said awkwardly to the tanned girl in front of me. A slim and slender girl with a cute face and no chest at all.

"Ye..yes…" Elia looked down at her clasped hands. It was obvious she didn't want this marriage; she was probably disgusted at the prospect of having to spend her whole life with me.

Oberyn was leaning against the wall of the hallway, looking fairly amused at our plight. I closed my eyes.

For a reincarnated life, I skipped the dating phase and went straight to marriage. Granted, it was an arranged marriage that wasn't of my choosing. If it had been my choosing, I wouldn't have chosen a nice girl like her. Nice naive girls were the type that were easily suckered into committing NTR with some bastard like Oberyn. Bastard in the cursing sense and not the fathering sense. Of course, in the Seven Kingdoms, a noble woman performing netorare was equivalent to a death sentence. Well, not necessarily death death, but I wouldn't be surprised if the woman was forced into becoming a silent sister or worse. The ways of medieval society weren't forgiving.

I opened my eyes.

"Elia."

She looked up nervously at me.

"Tell me about yourself."

~o~

After that, I learned nothing about her. She had covered her face and ran off with Oberyn chasing after her. It wasn't like I didn't understand her feelings. She was probably thinking something like: "Why do I have to marry dead fish-eyes?" That bitch. She couldn't say it to my face, but I knew that, in my heart of hearts, it was what she was thinking.

I could see it now. She was the type that would say, "Let's exchange letters," but when it came down to it, I would send out letters diligently while her replies would take longer and longer until it took a year for a single response or something like that. I had experience in this matter except it was with smartphones and text messaging. The conclusion came faster as well, in a matter of days rather than the years that I predict this would take. She would be doing all of this drudgery out of obligation and her nice nature at first, but she would eventually get tired of it and stop responding altogether. This was the horrible nature of nice girls; they would not reject you outright, but string you along because of their inability to be decisive. Eventually, those feelings you cultivated out of misunderstanding her kind acts toward you would rebel on you from your own stupidity, causing you to hate yourself with more fury than before. I would know since I had firsthand experience in this.

The worst part of it was that I couldn't not send reply letters. If she sent me them, I had to send one back. It was just in my nature, as if deep inside, I was hoping that it would work out despite the wisdom of my past ancestor—aka past me.

Nice girls were the number one reason that people got waifus. They were the reason that Japan had a declining birth rate. When the 3D could destroy us like this, why not go for the 2D? That was the kind of reasoning that gave birth to Zaimokuza and his kind.

Not to mention that these so-called nice girls would probably be dead fishes in bed. Their first times would be different, but after that? They would just be flopping around and enduring. Enduring, enduring, enduring. Just insert an occasional artificial moan, and that would complete the set. I had seen enough of certain materials to know that this was the result. Was that fun? No, it wasn't! That would be the reason for there being very few children born from these kind of unions. If my marriage was going to be like that, I would eventually have to go out and conquer all the brothels in Lannisport. What a disastrous end.

My conclusion? Nice girls are the reason that Japan would soon become depopulated. They are the harbingers of the end-times.

"Hachi." I was brought out of my thoughts by Oberyn who had returned to the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Let her have some time alone. She's not used to the idea of marriage," Oberyn said vaguely. "Trust me, she's a nice girl."

Case in point.

"She'll come around. Trust me, I saw her blushing when she ran off."

"I suppose," I blankly said. However, I was thinking the opposite. He was saying "Trust me" one too many times already. He was trying to warm me up to her, warm me up to the type of woman who could potentially ruin my life. I wasn't going to buy into that.

"You…don't like the match?"

"Oberyn, you already saw how it is." I frowned and crossed my arms. "It's not going to work out."

"She's just nervous and shy. She really does like you."

I didn't respond as I turned around and walked away.

There was no point in arguing since he was denying what was right in front of his eyes.

~o~

I looked down at Tyrion's cradle. The baby giggled at the sight of me. It had been awhile since I visited, distracted as I was by the Martells. Even though I was here, my mind was partially floating away. Marriage. I didn't mind the concept, but the fact that it was an arranged marriage wasn't exactly an exciting prospect. I knew it was expected of me, being a noble, but at the same time, it triggered my sensibilities. Still, an alliance with Dorne was not necessarily bad or worthless. As it was, trade with the eastern continent had to either go through the Stormlands, Crownlands, or Dorne to reach the Westerland. The Stormlands was dangerous with Shipbreaker Bay, making it an undesirable trade route. Going through the Crownlands required merchants to pay the travel tax of Dragonstone before having most of their goods sold in King's Landing, leaving only the drudges left for the Westerland. Dorne was in the middle of the sea route between the eastern continent and Lannisport, so with protection as well as a certain level of discount for travel supplies, it would make it a more attractive route for merchants. Lannisport was already a flourishing port, but this would booster trade with the eastern continent and certain portions of eastern Westeros that couldn't easily travel here by land. This would benefit Dorne as well. All in all, it was a good deal for everyone involved. I just never expected a marriage would be needed to seal it.

Especially since I was the one who made this analysis to Tywin and urged him to put away his prejudices in the first place. In the end, it came back to bite me.

It was at this point that someone who I wasn't expecting walked up to the cradle besides me. Meryl Martell.

"So this is little Tyrion," she said. "May I touch him?"

"I don't think that is a good idea. He has only been born recently so he's still frail." It wasn't a lie, but not necessarily the whole truth.

"I see." She gave a small smile. "Elia was the same way, born a little softer than most."

"Some things are out of our control."

"Have my children come to see him yet?"

"They did." Nothing notable happened during the visit. It seemed that they heard a lot of rumors of how Tyrion was a monster, but after they saw the truth, they didn't pay him much attention after that. "Nothing really happened."

"That's good." Meryl nodded. She waited a little bit, letting the silence settle before speaking again. "I heard from my son that you find the arrangement disagreeable."

"I dislike naive kind girls," I bluntly said.

"How strange that you already know the type of girls you like at this age," Meryl said. "But I think you're being unfair to her."

"Unfair?" I sighed. This was going to be a hassle. "Let me explain."

She politely nodded and waited for me to continue. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

"Kind to the beggar and kind to the king. She holds them both at arms length, stringing both along to think that they are special to her when they're not. This is unnatural. People care more about those they know far more than those that they don't, giving preferential treatment to the former in that respect. That is human nature.

"They aren't necessarily liars, but in their folly, they deceive themselves to treat everyone with kindness. Someone like that will have a difficult time letting anyone into their heart because they hide their true feelings deep within. Their frailty, their insecurities, their darker urges. All hidden behind a wall of their own making. How can someone who has never known themselves be able to learn to love someone else? One day, she might wake up and find out that the truth is that she hates all of this. What do you think will happen then?"

"That's…" I raised a hand to stop her.

"You ask me why I don't want this marriage, but let me ask you this: do you care about your daughter's happiness?"

"Of…of course," she said in soft, quiet voice.

"Then think about what she really wants," I said. "You'll only find out for sure once you strip the layers away. Don't rely on others to do it for you."

Don't rely on me to do it for you. That was the unsaid message I wanted to send.

"You are disturbing for a child of seven namedays."

"That's not the issue here."

"You're right; it's not."

"The issue here is that your daughter's real feelings are a mystery, and I'm still too young so my feelings may change in time. I don't know what kind of man I will become in the future."

"I think I do."

"Hm?"

"A exceedingly kind man."

"…why do you say that?"

"You're pushing others away too, aren't you?" She smiled. "Those that are kind are those that have suffered. In one way or another."

I clenched my fingers into a fist.

"It's not a bad—"

"Stop!" I gritted my teeth and reigned in my anger. "Stop. I know who I am. I know my true feelings. I'm not going to change for anyone or anything."

"I did not mean to offend."

"You didn't," I briskly said. "Is there anything else, Princess Meryl?"

"I do not believe so."

"Then have a good evening, princess."

"You as well, my lord."

~o~

In the end, Princess Meryl didn't get rid of the arranged marriage. She probably listened to all I had to say, and then threw my words away as a child's ranting. It was annoying, but I couldn't do much about it. I would have liked to have watched their farewell procession from one of the towers in the castle, but since I was heir to Casterly Rock, I had to be there in person. The first of the Martells to come and give me their last words was Oberyn.

"Well, Hachi, if you had been female, I'd have married you."

"Then I'm glad I'm not."

"Therefore, I'll give you my sister instead. Take care of her."

I held in the urge to facepalm. After that, Oberyn told me to keep practicing my spear. I nodded, but I didn't say any more than that; I didn't know if I could keep up with the spear anyways since I didn't know anybody else proficient with a spear.

As for Elia, she told me that she would write me letters, to which I politely nodded as well. I knew the ending of that chain of events, but I couldn't exactly deny her, especially not in front of everyone. The last to talk to me was Princess Meryl.

"If you can't find happiness, make your own," she told me with a gentle smile.

It would have been profound words in this era, but for me who had come from modern Japanese society, it was a drop in a bucket. I nodded my head and said that I would consider her words. She smiled in response before she boarded her carriage.

The train of carriages and wagons began to slowly make their way out of the castle.

Tywin's hand landed softly on shoulder.

"You did well, Hachi."

I didn't respond as I watched the carriages and wagons leave the gate.

~o~

A/N: The picture on the cover image is what I think Hachiman would look like in the future. Credit to the unknown artist. I only did some recoloring. Well, technically, it was just slapping on some overlays with color instead of washing it out with greyscale and actually coloring it. I would show a bigger image of the picture, but unfortunately, this site doesn't allow links.

With that out of the way, I would like to admit something. The entire style of this story is kind of like my weakpoint. The type of writing that I actually gravitate towards is action and fighting. It is a bit of an aggression that is partially from my history in rp forum fights. Most of what I wrote before this story was pretty much action adventure with a few endeavors into the grotesque. I wouldn't say my strongest point is action, but it is the point that I enjoy the most. Don't check into my previous stories though; most of my writing including original stories are posted on other places or sitting on my hard drive, collecting dust. I suppose that this story is meaningful to me in that it is my attempt to overcome my weakness. Dialogue, drama, interactions. These things honestly are hard for me. I find myself doubting what I write. I'm thinking that's because I'm rather unfamiliar with this. I'm hoping it lessens with more practice. You can imagine how I was baffled at the initial response to this story. Felt too positive for what it was because I don't think I am that good at it. Well, I'm just talking about it because I have nowhere else to do so. I have never gone this long without violence. It feels odd all around.

Well, enough with my insecurities which I probably shouldn't be putting in an author's note, but whatever. I have gone too far into the author's note to go back now.

Gregor Clegane and Sandor Clegane. I have been thinking about them lately, and I do want to involve them because they are one of the iconic figures of the Westerland. I admit that I absolutely adore what Gregor did to Oberyn. It's a type of brutality that I love from Game of Thrones. Does that make me strange? Well, though I want to involve them, it would obviously change their characters drastically, even as cardboard cutout as Gregor's personality is. Is that a good or bad thing? I'm not too sure. I'm also not really sure how I can involve them, being as low status as they are until Gregor makes his claim to fame that causes the Clegane family to rise in status. Then again, should I really? It kind of feels like putting a delinquent bully next to Hachiman, resulting in some cliche children hierarchy drama. Or will it? His status is pretty low. I really just don't know.


	5. Interlude: Tywin 1 (274 AC)

Interlude: Tywin 1 (274 AC)

~o~

King's Landing was the "Crown Jewel" of the Seven Kingdoms, but as far as he was concerned, it was simply a large spiraling city mired in filth from the masses of human flesh. As Tywin Lannister rode his horse through the stained stone street along with a small entourage of guards walking silently beside him, the peasantry made way for him with slightly bowed heads. However, for those eyes that he did see, they were filled with fear, awe, and not a little bit of anger. The sight never failed to disgust him. What made the city a nauseating nest of squalor and disease was the smallfolk themselves, overpopulating the infrastructure far beyond what it could reasonably be expected to handle. The sewers were inefficient—unsuited for the torrent that they were made to contained—and the so-named citizens were blackened souls, little more than the rats that they feasted on. The ones that came to the capital were those seeking out their fortunes, often possessing none of their own. Scarcity breeds squalor and disorder, so the corruption ran rank on their bodies and minds.

This side of the city was closer to the slums, closer to where the most low of smallfolk were isolated and contained. The reasoning why was simple. The peasantry were easily corrupted by their surroundings. In a fertile farmland, a peasant could become a hard worker, but in this piss-stained streets of Flea Bottom? A waste of the air was all that they would become. Such men were useful in strict moderation, but in here, they were overgrown and self-inflated. If this was Lannisport, he would have never tolerated it.

However, this city was the King's, not his. The man and his ancestors were content to let this—

A hand grabbed the edge of his red cloak.

Tywin glanced disdainfully at the peasant woman gripping his cloak. She was trembling, sun-burnt face streaked with tears, old and new.

"Pl…please, m'lord. My daughter. She, she is—" A spear pierced her side, eliciting a surprised scream from her. She crumpled to the ground, moaning and crying, but they were quickly stomped out by his guards. The crowd around simply stared, doing nothing but watching. The woman wasn't a random death; she had caused her own death sentence by touching his possession, so they had no sympathy for her.

Tywin pulled out a bejeweled knife and used it to tear off the small portion of his cloak that was touched. He was not a man that cared about getting dirty, but in those cases, he knew where it was from. Mud, dirt, blood. However, with those hands, there was no telling where they had been, whether they had been dunked in the water of the sewers or splattered with the expulsions of the diseased. In any case, the moment he left, the smallfolk would ransack the body of all its possessions and defile it, as this hive of maggots was wont to do. The piece of fine red fabric fluttered to the ground, soaking into the puddle of blood that slowly grew from the near unrecognizable lump of flesh and clothing.

This city never failed to disgust him with its filth.

~o~

As Tywin Lannister stepped into the room, the two Kingsguard knights on either side shut the doors behind him. Shrouded in the white cloaks of their duty, they stood silently, awaiting that which would not come. In the wide and empty throne room, illuminated by the flickering fires of torches and braziers, there was no one else save for the most important man in the kingdom, sitting on an ancient chair composed entirely of iron swords. King Aerys II.

Tywin walked across the empty room, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. Only when he reached the tip of the stairs did he finally bow his head slightly in greeting.

"Your grace."

"Lord Tywin, I see you haven't forgotten your way to King's Landing." The words might have sounded cheerful, but the sneer on Aerys's face told otherwise.

"My business took longer than expected, your grace."

"Bah. Save me your excuses," Aerys said. "You're just a servant, and it'll do you well to remember your duties. I do not like being kept waiting."

"I will keep your words in mind, your grace." Tywin's remained calm and stoic, but his fingers twitched.

"As you always say, but do you now? How many times must I repeat it?"

"I thank you for your patience, your grace. I will endeavor to exert myself."

"Empty words and empty platitudes," Aerys said. "Never the less, let it not be known that I am not gracious to even the most empty headed of my servants. Congratulations on your son's betrothal to that Dornish whore."

Tywin stayed silent, staring stonily at the king.

"Isn't that your great scheme? Turning Dorne into a productive kingdom loyal to me? Do you think that I will thank you for it?" Aerys waved his hand wildly. "You're doing this because of my grand plan I had before, aren't you?! The one that involved making Dorne prosperous by…by….what was it? That plan! My plan. Stealing the grand plans of the king is not permissible."

Tywin took a step onto the stairs.

"What do you think you're doing?" Aerys's eyes narrowed.

"…wishing you a pleasant day, your grace. I am fatigued from my journey so I'll retire to the Tower of the Hand."

"See that you do. We will converse again in the morn."

"As you wish, your grace."

~o~

Tywin stared out of the open window from the upper level of the Tower of the Hand. From this height, the air was fresh with a touch of the sea breeze, unlike the abhorrent smell that lingered through the city.

"If making me wait will appease your anger, my lord, then I'll wait for as long as possible."

It was a long moment before Tywin finally turned around to give attention to the overweight eunuch sitting idly in the chair in front of the desk.

"What are you here for, Varys?"

"Ever since I came to be the Master of Whispers two years ago, I have seen his grace's descent into…instability. Yet, ever since Prince Jaehaerys's birth, there has been a marked improvement, and the realm has benefited from it. Your conversation with his grace is not productive towards that goal."

"Why am I not surprised you know about this? Your informants work fast."

"Then, Lord Tywin, may I ask you to not push his grace too far?" Varys faintly smiled, reaching over the desk to to pick up a rolled-up parchment. "You are one of the pillars that he holds onto, even though he does not wish to admit it. Should you leave, I'm afraid that he will regress to a point where Prince Rhaegar will be forced to assume the crown before he is ready." He unrolled the parchment, letting the golden broach of a hand hidden within fall into his palm. "I believe you will still need this, my lord."

"Putting aside how you knew that, this conversation is reaching dangerously close to treason."

"My, my. That isn't my intention at all. If I had my way, then the realm would be stable and happy. Unfortunately, the facts are laid out as it is. His grace is losing his reason. He sees shadows where there are none, and I'm afraid that you and Queen Rhaella face the blunt of it. Even Prince Rhaegar, young as he is at ten and five, is starting to feel the effects of his grace's descent," Varys said. "His grace's trust in even his closest confident is waning as his hysteria grows. You must understand that I'm a proponent of stability. I am doing all within my power to maintain it, but I fear that if even one of his pillars were to disappear, his descent would accelerate dramatically."

"And your solution?"

"Stay as the Hand of the King." Varys's smile slipped from his face. "Even though his other pillars are Queen Rhaella and Prince Rhaegar, his grace is slowly pushing them away as surely as he is pushing you away. Still, that gives time, and time is valuable in finding a solution of a more permanent variety."

"Is this all you came here for?"

"For the most part, yes. A bit of consul for one who usually gives such." Varys placed the golden broach on the desk.

"Then you may leave," Tywin said. "Go."

"As you wish, Lord Tywin, but do convey my congratulations to your son's engagement. It's a wonderful arrangement that will prove fruitful for your ambitions."

~o~

A/N: Not the Tywin interlude you wanted, but the Tywin interlude you deserved!

…lololololol.


	6. Chapter 5: Discovery (275 AC)

Chapter 5: Discovery (275 AC)

~o~

After the Martell visit, things were quiet. I resumed my daily regimen of studying, training, games, and boredom.

Also, time skips are bullshit.

In any kind of stories, they would never really go into detail about the boredom part. They would skip it and go to the good parts. This was especially true in reincarnated stories where they skipped the childhood phase after a few displays of the main character's overpowered nature, but nope, not for me. To me, boredom was a very real threat; I didn't have the luxury of a time skip. I have gone over the subject many times already, but it never stopped being a problem. In the modern world, I rarely had any idle time. There was always something to do, whether for my own amusement or for the duties to the establishment known as school. I was fully aware that I was saying this from a privileged standpoint. If I had been born into a peasant family, my lot in life would probably not have turned out so well, no matter how smart or innovative I was. It was extremely difficult for a minor noble to rise up, but for a peasant, it was nearly impossible. Still, privileged as I was, I was still a child so I didn't really give much more thought than that.

That was why, just like that, two years passed me by, leaving my siblings and I to watch our ninth birthday fly by. Nothing of note really came to mind. Oh, except last year. News of Oberyn came north, carried on the wings of the letters that his sister sent to me. Yes, ever since the visit, she had been sending me letters. I had replied back promptly, and just as I expected, the intervals between replies began to grow bigger and bigger. It was, in part, my fault as well. She sent me letters filled with trivial details, and I sent back polite responses, but since the expectations they had for me were met, that justified my minimal actions. I never invested myself so it would never come back to bite me.

In any case, the news was noteworthy since Oberyn did something stupid. He was slated to be a harem protagonist, but what did he do with it? He slept with the wife of a notable noble household head. He committed NTR. Trust me, those kind of protagonist could only survive in doujins, and even then, a quarter of the time, they met a gruesome end. He had permanently relegated himself as a scum character. However, by the time I finished the letter, I had to change his categorization once again. He got challenged by the husband, but what did he do? He secretly poisoned the man during the duel, resulting in the death of the head of the Yronwood House. Now, he was in temporary exile. If he had not been part of the family that ruled Dorne, he would probably have been killed. No, in fact, in any other region, he would have been killed regardless. The Yronwood House was the second most powerful house in Dorne, and their current head was poisoned dishonorably by a child of a branch line of the Martells. Any other kingdom would have put the child to death. This kind of blatant bias? It was the kind that started civil wars. These two houses would likely never reconcile after this because this was a blatant humiliation and definitely fertile grounds for a rebellion. It was likely one of these houses would have to be buried six feet under the sand in the future. Just low enough to be out of sight, but high enough to be a feast for scavengers.

There was no if or buts about it. He was a villain, pure and simple, promoted from the background character of scum to a public assassin. What more, he did this when he didn't have any reason to. The duel was to first blood, not to maiming or death. The issue would have been mostly done with if he had not used poison. For this stupidity, he could only rise to the villainous rank of mid-boss. An idiot like him could only show his true effectiveness when under the orders of a true boss character. Whether he finds one or languishes in mediocrity was up to his luck.

It had been a year since then. Last I heard, he was off gallivanting in Oldtown, studying to be a maester, strange as that was. I didn't gauge him as the studious type, so I doubted he would last long there, especially since the Yronwoods probably sent assassins after him.

Good luck, former harem protagonist candidate. You will need it. Being a mid-boss isn't a profession with a long shelf life. Do your best to be a good stepping stone for the real protagonist.

"Hachi, do not stray from my side."

I blinked out of my thoughts and quickly shuffled over to Tywin. We were surrounded by knights as we walked through the city of Lannisport. There were many people crowding the streets or watching windows and balconies. Of course, the reason why they were watching was obvious. They were here to see me.

This was my first time in Lannisport, and since I was the heir of Casterly Rock, I would be their future lord. If you considered all of that, it was no wonder that there seemed like a huge turn-out. Everywhere I looked, there were people waving and throwing flowers. However, I wasn't here for this. I wasn't even here to see the city, though it was a lot cleaner than I thought it would be.

There had been several expeditions to Asshai over the years, but the books they returned with were not entirely useful. Sale of books concerning magic was highly restricted. Even with the amount of money I threw at the problem, progress in getting those material remained incredibly slow, hampered by the indigenous locals. It was difficult to find people to bribe in Asshai, or more specifically, people who can be bribed and had access to such books. It was a tightly controlled commodity, but I had expected that of a mage society. Still, even I didn't expect the yield to be this low. I devoured what I could by learning the language of the Asshai'i and skimming through all the materials that the expeditions brought back, which varied widely in content. It was hard to make a whole enough picture with random fragments, not to mention dangerous.

Learning Asshai wasn't easy, but it was doable. Some people think that with all this free-time I had, why not learn all the languages of the world? No, no, motivation does not work like that. Corporate slaves are brainwashed into thinking that they must learn new languages to talk to certain clients in their corporate jobs, but was that ever a good reason? Learn it just to occasionally talk to a few people? No! Absolutely not. Going to live in a country that primarily speaks that language is a good reason. Importing works that are interesting in their original language is a good reason. Getting a mail-order bride is somewhat of a good reason. Learning just to speak to a few people for your job? What kind of reasoning is that? It is blackmail from a corporate society that says you have to do it or lose your job. When will you ever use it outside of that job? Nowhere. I would much prefer to spend my time trying to puzzle out and construct the jigsaw puzzle that is magic rather than be strung around by corporate nonsense.

Unfortunately, magic was currently a puzzle that was missing vital pieces. Frustration was a commonplace feeling that I had to endure more times than I cared to count, and it was hard to resist the urge to try to draw in the blanks, even as dangerous as that was.

So why was I here in Lannisport?

It was because after months of negotiation, I had finally managed to broker a deal with the Asshai'i government. There was no way around dealing with them if I wanted access, and it worked out far better than I had hoped. Of course, this was all done under Tywin's name with his permission. With the massively increased selection, I pretty much went on a shopping spree. I had spent more gold dragons on that than I had ever spent on anything else in my entire life—this life and my previous one. I had temporarily lost my mind there. If this had been my old life, it was possible I would have taken out a loan with my kidney as collateral.

By the time we waded through the crowd of spectators and reached the harbor, the ship had already sailed into the port and dropped anchor. The gangplank had been extend and set down on the pier, and there were a few of the crew bringing the crates filled with books across. The moment they saw our procession, they quickly put down their burdens and stood at attention. Not in the militaristic way, but in a way that still showed at least a modicum of respect to their employer. An older man among them—having a shaggy head of gray—came forward, to which Tywin waved aside his guards.

"M'lord."

"Captain." Tywin casted his stern, unyielding gaze over the man. "Has everything been settled?"

"Aye, t'ough we still be 'auling crates. I t'ink two turns of the 'ourglass be enough," the captain said. "The lady's anxious to meetc'a, M'lord, but I confined 'er to the cabin for now."

"Lady?"

"Part of the contract wit' t'em Ass'ai'i."

"Ah yes, the priestess," Tywin said with mild disdain. "Bring her here."

"Aye, M'lord." The captain bowed his head once more before he promptly turned and made his way up the gangplank.

It wasn't long before he reappeared again, though this time assisting a lady down the gangplank. Her reddish hair contrasted her white skin, such that the pallor of her complexion was exemplified. She wore a robe of black and red that hugged her figure and left a good amount of cleavage exposed, I noted. Surprisingly, I thought about all of this with an exceptional amount of stoicism. The time before puberty was truly a vastly different world. In most reincarnation stories, the main character often had those blushing, heart-pounding moments of sexual exposure and embarrassment in their early days, but that was not the case here or at any time really in my current life. Youth truly was a lie.

"My lords." The red-headed woman bowed to us both in turn, though she oddly aimed it at me first. "I am a priestess of R'hllor, the Lord of Light and the God of Flame and Shadow. You may call me Melisandre."

"I have no need of your name. Only your promise that you will not be a nuisance."

"That, I cannot promise." At those words, Tywin's eyes narrowed.

"Do as you will, but remember, a Lannister always pays his debt."

"I should hope so, with the amount that my brothers and sisters have gifted you with."

"This is a deal, not a gift. As per the agreement, you will be given adequate housing in Lannisport. You may meet with Hachi only once a week, but should you practice your crafts on my son and heir, your head will be removed," Tywin said sternly. "I believe I do not need to remind you of how thin the ground you walk on is."

"That is more than sufficient, my lord."

"If anything happens to my son—"

"I think she gets the point, father." I wasn't usually bold enough to interrupt Tywin, but there was something about her smile that was putting me on edge. It was only when she turned her attention to me that I realized what it was. Her smile didn't reach her eyes when she talked to Tywin, but the moment they landed on me, they sparkled. I didn't exactly know what it meant, but I had an idea. She was a hunter of cherry boys. I should be careful—or maybe I should celebrate? "I believe you already know my name, Lady Melisandre. Do you have a last name?"

"Please, my lord, call me simply Melisandre. As for last names, I've long forgotten mine while in the service of the Lord of Light."

"A bit convenient, isn't it?" I watched her carefully, but I couldn't read her. It was like trying to see through a block of ice. Sparkling ice, if her eyes were any indication. Skimming around the edges wasn't going to give me answers, so I decided to take a direct approach. "Why the interest in me? Is it because you think I'd be easy to convert since I'm young?"

"My lord, why wouldn't I be interested in you? The flames had showed me your true form."

"And what would that be?" I raised my hand to stop the guards from interfering when Melisandre walked over to me and leaned in to whisper into my ear.

"Great Bodhisattva Hachiman."

My entire body froze. It was as if time stopped; everything around me slowed to a halt as my mind began to burn furiously.

"How…how do you know that name?"

Melisandre took a step back and, with a smile, said, "The God of Light revealed it to me in the fires."

"Stop lying." There was only one person who called me that.

"I do not lie. Not to you. The God of Light guides my—"

"Shut up!" I gritted my teeth even as I glared at her. After a moment, I forced my eyes close and took a deep, audible breath. Only when I felt I had a bit more control did I open my eyes again. "You'll tell me what you know."

"I can only show you."

"Fine. You'll come with us to the castle and show me tonight," I said. "If you're lying to me, the rest of your stay in Lannisport will not be pleasant."

It was a vague threat at best, not really saying anything. The words didn't mean anything really, but only I knew that. I could have warned her with—and carried out—threats of torture and death, but I wasn't going to do that. Doing something like that felt like I would be crossing a line, losing a bit of the humanity that I carried with me from the other side.

Power corrupts. Liberators transform into dictators. Heroes turn into monstrous kings. Once someone crosses the line, it becomes easier and easier to do it time and time again. When does it end, when does it stop? It doesn't. That is why I had to be careful.

I was to be the Lord of the Westernland with my domain stretching across the mountain ranges. Those that will be ruled by me would have no real say; they could only obey. Rebellions and revolts were certainly responses that they could reply to me with, but those would be stomped out by my bannermen unless I became a truly evil tyrant who everyone—including my loyalists—turns on. In a sense, as long as I didn't become that blatantly evil to everyone, there was no one who could stop me.

Melisandre smiled gracefully, elegantly, and knowingly.

"As you wish, my lord."

~o~

"What did she tell you?"

Tywin was sitting across from me the in the rumbling carriage as he asked the question. Honestly, I thought he would ask that sooner, but I was glad he waited until we were alone, with the red priestess on another carriage.

"…a nickname I had inside a dream I saw a long time ago."

"I see," Tywin said without a hint of his thoughts. "Is she a threat?"

"I'm not certain," I said, "but I'll find out tonight."

~o~

The trip back to the castle was quiet, and the dinner afterward felt stale in my mouth. Both Cersei and Jaime assaulted me with questions about Lannisport, but I could barely answer them; there was too much on my mind distracting me.

By nightfall, I had a large tent pitched up in the middle of one of the upper courtyards. There were guards stationed a small distance away to allow privacy, but they were close enough that they could hear me if I shouted or made noises. It was a precaution that I had to do to satisfy Tywin to allow me to go alone, but I didn't expect anything to happen; there was just no motive that I could think of—no, that was wrong. These kind of people didn't need a motive, at least not one for themselves. Religious fanatics were unpredictable and dangerous. If they wanted to kill me, they could easily say that they saw me being a threat to the world in the future from a vision to justify themselves.

I pushed aside the entrance flaps and entered the tent. It was completely barren inside—as I expected—with the exception of a brazier with a fire blazing upon its pan. Honestly, it looked more like a stand with a bowl filled with coal on top of it. Standing next to it, watching the flames with an almost unnatural intensity, was the priestess of R'hllor.

"I had seen you many times in the fires, my lord," Melisandre said wistfully. "For a very long time."

"How long?" I walked up to the brazier and looked in, but all I could see was the flickering flames and the coal underneath.

"Since you were an infant. I had searched for you across the Dothraki sea, from Asshai to Pentos.I had never thought you'd be here, in a land far from the Temples of R'hllor," she said. "It was only on my return to Asshai, by chance, that I heard of a Hachi Lannister in search of the words of magic. Your name was similar to the one shown in the fires, but not the same. I do not believe it was a coincidence that I heard that name, and you should not believe that it is coincidence that I'm here before you now."

"Do you expect me to believe all of this?"

"I had foreseen this moment. Of you standing here alone, watching and speaking with the fires of R'hllor," she spoke softly as she began to make her way around me to leave the tent. "The answers you seek are in the flames."

It was only when she left that I turned back to brazier. Okay, what was I supposed to do? Look into it until it shows me something? I supposed that it wouldn't hurt to try.

I had only looked into the fire for a few moments before the flames started to shift and warp. Fascinated, I couldn't take my eyes away as it molded itself, shaping itself into that of a flaming face. The fiery eyelids lifted to reveal deep pools of shadows that seemed to stare right into me. My feet felt like they were melted to the floor while my heart was hammering against my chest. The corners of the orange and red flickering lips turned upward into a sinister-looking grin.

"What are—"

"I've been waiting for you, my comrade!"

"…there is only one person who would say something like that."

"Indeed, you are right, Hikigaya Hachiman." The flaming face laughed without a care. "It is I, the Blademaster General!"

"Zaimokuza," I said with a groan. Despite all the hints that were thrown in long before this, I couldn't quite keep the surprise away from my voice. "You reincarnated as a god? No, that doesn't make sense. You're a magical being posing as a god, right?"

"Hahaha, that is a…no," the flaming head said. "I was called R'hllor long before I was given the name Zaimokuza Yoshiteru. Hahahah. My birth and life on Earth was just a vacation."

I rubbed my temples. "…explain it in a way that doesn't give me a headache."

"From the beginning? Well, my wonderful life began during the Long Night, when the prayers of—"

"I don't need your life story in detail. A quick summary works just fine."

"Comrade! You can't understand the significance without the details! Now where was I? My glorious life as a majestic—and handsome—god began during the Long Night…"

For the sake of making this quick with the least amount of embellishment, I quickly summarized his long and exaggerated tale into a much, much smaller summary in my head. Seriously, this thing went on for hours and hours, even pausing at some points to go further into trivial details like how he accidentally caused his priestesses to start draping everything in red cloth.

You know those cliche theories of how gods pop into existence through the prayer power of mankind? It turned out to be true. He popped into existence during the Long Night. There wasn't an exact time, since his consciousness didn't fully realize he was "alive" for a long time. After that, he pretty much governed his domains seriously and gained more power by the spread of his religion. It was the kind of story you would expect from a solitary god who lived alone for a long time. Of course, there were other gods and goddesses, but they apparently couldn't visit much because their domains remained far and there was really no reason to.

That changed when he decided to take a vacation—triggered by the musing of one of his most regarded high priestesses taking one in Pentos. But how does a God take a vacation? The answer was both simple and complex. They pulled a portion of themselves apart that included their primary consciousness and sent it to another dimension. It would be reborn into the world as one of its species and live out its life there, which may or may not be much sometimes, like if he became a lizard on a deathworld. However, he wanted to find out what being human was like so he decided on Earth.

As you could imagine, his newfound otaku obsession and personality had completely overwritten his previous personality. It was like a virus. He was a delusional highschooler with Eighth Grader Syndrome. Now, he was a god with Eighth Grader Syndrome. A chuunibyou god. How does that even work?

"And when the Long Night comes again, Hikigaya-kun, I'll come down there on my horse with my samurai katana, leading the charge against the icers!"

"Is that really how gods work?"

"…well, no. We can't really come down to the mortal plane like that," Zaimokuza said awkwardly while scratching his flaming head. "But now that you're here, you can help me think of a way to do it! With us two combined, nothing can stop us! Hahahahaha!"

"That reminds me. Why am I here? Didn't I die?"

"I brought you here," he said. "I don't have any powers on those other worlds, but I managed to make a deal for your soul. Don't worry, it only cost me some amenities."

"Oi, oi, you know there's another demonic entity who's affiliated with fire and barters for people's souls."

Zaimokuza's fire flickered wildly. "No, no! I'm a good guy, I swear!"

"Fine, I believe you…for now," I said as the flames calmed down. "Still, I can't imagine you negotiating for anything."

"Hahahaha, right you are, but if I'm bad, they're even worse. Godly beings aren't known for their social interactions. I had trained my tenaciousness to the limit during my human life!"

"So you basically pestered them until they gave in."

"…you make it sound less impressive than it is," Zaimokuza said with a disturbing pout and whine. "Putting that aside, I brought you to this world with your memory intact just like how the great main characters in light novels and web novels begin their journey to greatness."

"I'm missing my overpowered ability."

"Ah, about that. When I brought you over, it was my first time doing something like that. In the process, I kind of lost your soul so I couldn't exactly bestow anything to you."

"You lost me? How did you lose me?!"

"Don't say that in such an accusatory tone! I just fumbled and dropped your soul. Look, I've been trying to find you for years, but I'm not all-seeing. I used some vision powers periodically, but they were pretty vague. So I just showed those same ones to some of my priests and priestesses and hoped for the best. It worked out, didn't it?"

"So you sent a legion of stalkers after me. Well, nine years isn't that long so I suppose it worked." I frowned thoughtfully. "So do I get a power?"

"I am the God of Flames and Shadow! Your power will come from here, and it will be…will be…"

"You don't know, do you?"

"I didn't think I'd actually find you for a few more years." Zaimokuza drummed a flaming finger on his flaming double-chin. "Shadows are a bit situational, so let's go with fire."

"I guess that works. Fire is pretty broad."

"You'll be Flame Master Hachiman, the Herald of Fire! Together, we will push back the Long Night and usher in a new era."

"…why do I have a bad feeling?"

"Oh hohoho, your instincts are correct. We will introduce the wondrous world of anime and manga to this planet!" Zaimokuza raised a flaming fist. "Already, my faithful followers across Essos are spreading the art of manga creation. People are already starting to call me the god of art too. Maybe that will soon become a domain of mine, with enough prayers. I thought about starting with light novels, but without manga, they won't have the right mindset."

"They don't even have a printing press."

"That's where you come in, Hikigaya-kun. It's difficult to speak to my followers, but with you, I have a connection that allows us to communicate on a level that I can't with anyone else. A truly unbreakable bond between us."

"Can I refuse?"

"No," Zaimokuza said in a deadpan voice before he quickly regained his cheer. "You must take the reign. You must become the main character and usher in the new era of technology. Paper made from wood and the printing press is only the start!"

"I refuse," I said. "And besides that, I don't even know how to make paper."

"…oh." Zaimokuza frown for a moment before shrugging and smiling. "I'll just make a deal with one of the gods on Earth for the information. Not much prayer power going on there so they're a bit starved."

"Are you ignoring the refusing part?"

"Indeed, I am!" He nodded his flaming head. A serious look came onto his face. "This is a harsh era where people lose their lives easily. If manga can change the culture of the world to a better one, can you really ignore that?"

"…why manga?" I sighed. "But no, I can't ignore that."

"I didn't judge you wrongly, Hachiman. Now, come closer to the fire. I need to bestow you with your overpowered ability. Only with this can you fight with the Others on even ground."

"The Others?"

"You know them as the White Walkers, artificial constructs who turned on their masters and the world, just like Skynet. They are real, and they will come with the Long Night. Only by pushing them back can we even begin to dream of a peaceful world of anime and manga. Now come closer."

I stepped up to the brazier.

"Put your hand in, Hikigaya-kun, and receive my blessings."

I stuck my hand into the flames of the brazier.

"A-aaahnnn! N-not that deep, Hachi-kun!"

There was a flash of white and pain before I blacked out.

~o~

A/N: Didn't expect that, did you?


	7. Chapter 6: Words

Chapter 6: Words

~o~

I woke up to an unfamiliar white ceiling.

…is what I would like to say, but it was the familiar tan canopy of my bed.

"Cersei, Cersei, he's awake!"

"I can see that! Hachi, does it hurt anywhere?"

I turned my head to the side to see my brother and sister sitting in chairs next to the bed. It took me a vague moment to realize that I was actually lying on that bed. The last thing I remembered was a flash of white after I stuck my hand into…

I raised my hand. Turning it over and over, I found that it unexpectedly did not have any burns on it.

"Hachi?"

"How did I—"

Then my sight flashed, and I blacked out again.

~o~

The darkness of the room greeted my eyes when I woke up again, but I forced myself to roll to the edge of the bed. I didn't want to fall unconscious again, and I knew that would happen if I stayed in bed any longer, I would probably doze off to sleep. My feet found purchase on the chilled carpet. Still, it was disorienting in the darkness of the room. Not total darkness since some of the moonlight still filtered through the curtains. As I stood up, I closed my eyes, willing myself to adjust faster to the darkness. I wanted to see.

When I opened my eyes, I could see, but not in the way I was expecting. Instead of seeing the dim outlines of my surroundings in the darkness, the room was illuminated by the flickering of a candlelight. Except when I looked down, it wasn't a candlelight. A small flicker of fire, a wisp of bright orange flames, rolled across my palm. I noticed a strange sensation of heat, but it wasn't hot or scorching; it was more akin to body warmth. As I spun my hand, it flowed across my palm and in between my fingers like water. I closed my hand into a fist, capturing the wisp within and shrouding the room in darkness once more.

I could feel its heat enclosed into the center of my palm, emanating light through the gaps in between my fingers. Opening my hand up, the flame grew according to my will, covering my entire hand in its mystical fire. I moved my flaming hand over a candle by my nightstand, watching as the candle wick got caught on fire and the wax began to melt. It wasn't an illusion; this was real. The power granted to me, the ability to create and control fire. If I had this power when I was a middle schooler, I would have become so far gone into my delusions that recovery would have been impossible. With a thought, I extinguished the flames. Little strands of smoke rose from my hand, barely visible in the dim light of the candle.

Walking over to the curtains, I pulled them apart. The half moon in the starry sky greeted my slight. It only made the torch lights far below more obvious, their yellow glow lighting up the courtyard. Men in armor—both light and heavy—were patrolling or standing guard at doorways. Unlike many castles, Casterly Rock needed many guards within its walls at all times of the day and night. That was because it wasn't just for protection, it also to ward off thieves and corruption. Gold was a tempting prospect, and there was no place with more gold in Westeros than Casterly Rock. Still, that wasn't what kept most away. No, it was rather our unofficial motto.

A Lannister always pays his debts.

Unless they disappear, it would be hard to escape House Lannister's retribution.

They seemed to think the world of me, but if it came down to it, could I execute someone with my own hands? Swing the blade and take a life?

I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, even though the answer would eventually come. It was inevitable, at least in this world.

In the night skies above, the half-moon was positioned somewhat passed the apex. That meant that it was likely after midnight. It was far too late to do anything, and my siblings were probably exhausted, having watched over me the entire day. Yet, because of how much I had already slept, I didn't feel an ounce of exhaustion.

Moving again into the center of the room, I grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the door. I placed it against the door. It wasn't much, but if someone was to try to enter the room, the door would hit the chair, impeding their progress and making some noise. That would allow me some forewarning and time to hide my flames.

A thin layer of fire covered my hand. After all, there was nothing to do now except test the limits of my power.

~o~

By the time the first light filtered through my window, my eyes felt like they were sunken in. Having spent the whole night experimenting, I could safely say that staring into an open flame for that long wasn't doing my eyes any favors, especially in a relatively dark room. However, I did find out some of the limits that I had. I was feeling more than a bit exhausted, but it was mostly from the usage of my powers. My ability drew something out of me, probably similar to internal mana in a way, instead of having energy taken from the environment or from a patron god.

I could only create a small wisp of flame, but if there was an open fire, I could control a larger portion of it than the amount I could create. Another fact was that fire couldn't hurt me. It didn't matter what the source was; it did nothing more to my skin except make it warmer. However, that only applied to my body. When my clothes caught on fire, I had to quickly snuff it out. Luckily, if I was in direct contact with a flame, I could extinguish it with a thought.

So what was my conclusion? This was currently useful only for theatrics and surviving fires. Since I wasn't planning to be a firefighter, the latter aspect was dubious in its use. If I used it while having armor on, I would be melting the armor on to me. I sincerely hoped Zaimokuza included a leveling up system for this ability, otherwise this would be useless in most regards.

Well, I doubted he would call it an overpowered ability if it could only do this much. I read his attempts at making light novels so I knew how much of a chuunibyou he was. He knew very well what was overpowered and what was underpowered. If he didn't, he would be a failure at being a chuunibyou.

I pulled the chair away from the door. In the end, no one came in the middle of the night to check up on me. I supposed that was a good thing, but it left me a little disappointed. In what, I wasn't sure, but that in turn made me a bit irritated. I opened the door and went outside.

There were only servants and guards awake in the hallway, and the moment they saw me, they rushed to spread the news. I was going to go out and check if Tywin was awake, but I supposed he would be coming to me instead. So I went back inside and sat on my bed. A maid came in shortly with a tray of food. I promptly ate my meal in bed as I waited.

And waited.

And waited…

After what seemed like the full drop of an hourglass, I got up and went out to find him. It turned out he was in the dining hall, eating breakfast in that slow, methodical way that he does. I sat roughly in one of the many empty chairs at the long table.

"Hachi, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"Father, aren't you supposed to be visiting me?" He frowned slightly in response. I supposed that I layered the sarcasm a little too much there.

"Very well. Tell me what happened last night." When he saw me glance around at the servants and guards in the room, he spoke out loud. "All of you. Leave."

As if they were synchronized, the various servants and guards made their way out in silence. Only when the doors closed shut did Tywin's focus drop back on me.

"Now, the story."

"Magic is real." To accentuate my point, I allowed small flicker of appeared on the palm of my hand. It moved according to my will, but stayed within the confines of my palm. Tywin only allowed his forehead to furrow as he stared at it.

"It burns?"

"To everything except me. It'll even light my clothes on fire."

Tywin stood up and walked over to me with a steady gait. Only when he reached me did he hold out his hand, letting it hover over the flame contained in mine. He moved his hand, testing, feeling, as if trying to find a weakness to an illusion. When he found none, he took his hand back. Silently, I extinguished the flame with a single thought, leaving only a tiny wisp of smoke in its place.

"It's real." It was only two words, but it was a heavy statement nonetheless. It encompassed the many years that I had spent, trying to validate the truth about magic in this world. Despite how many books I had procured from Asshai, this was the first time that I actually dealt with real magic and not simply words on a page. I supposed that my emotions showed through because, for a moment, I saw Tywin's face softened. However, that moment was fleeting and gone in the next.

"It seems your endeavor was fruitful."

"It was," I said, lowering my eyes to my hand. "I can't be harmed by fire anymore."

"Then explain to me what that witch did to you."

"Don't call her that. She didn't do anything to me. She only instructed me; she was outside the tent when my power was awakened. The guards will attest to that."

"They have, which is the only reason she is still alive." I nodded my head at his words. In fact, I had chosen my previous words carefully because I knew that if I didn't, it would lead to her execution on the off-chance that she was still alive. Tywin didn't like the fact that she was here, and with what happened to me, I was surprised that she wasn't already dead. It was, honestly, a relief.

"Is she still…whole?"

"That will depend on your next words. Continue with your story," Tywin said. "But no more lies or half-truths. Your carefully chosen words do not speak well of your intentions."

I was at a loss for words.

"Do not be so surprised, Hachi. Did you not think that I would see through your facade? Do not play games with me." Tywin stared down at me with a stony gaze, his presence immense enough to bear down on me. "You are my son and heir, the scion of House Lannister. I know you as well as I do my left hand. I can hear the reluctance in your chatter, speaking with half-truths and only an ounce of conviction. If this is how you act, then you are not ready for the courts.

"Speak, Hachi of House Lannister, but know this. As long as I am the head, you will bow your head and submit your will to me. I have no need for compromise, and I will give none to one who speaks to me as if speaking to a fool."

I may have been at a loss for words at first, but during his speech, I was already weighing the positives and negatives. While it was possible to hide it all, I didn't know if I had what it took to do it; I wasn't a machine. I couldn't simply do it myself, and I didn't have the confidence to hide my actions from someone as keen as Tywin. In fact, it would just make it far more difficult than it had to be. Making an enemy—if nominal—out of Tywin was a horrible prospect that would restrict me almost entirely. However, getting him on my side was a daunting task. I wasn't sure if that could really be done in truth, but I was his son. That much was true, and that gave me a huge advantage over anyone else.

In the end, I said: "I made a contract with a magical being that thinks of himself as a god. He calls himself R'hllor."

As I laid out the story, the only thing I held back on was our past life. I wasn't sure if he noticed or not, but I was too caught up in my telling to really pay attention. If he did, he didn't object or interrupt me, letting me finish my story from the top to the bottom. During the whole time, Tywin stood beside me, his face near expressionless. By the end of it, it still stayed the same, though his eyes were wavering, if just a bit.

"You were foolish, Hachi. A deal should not be made without prior consideration."

"I considered it enough. I weighed the benefits and risks."

"You are smarter than your brother and sister, more insightful than peers twice your age," he said, "but do not lose sight of the fact that you are still just a child."

I slowly nodded and looked back up to him.

Tywin stared at me for a moment before releasing a sigh. "But what's done is done. Most would think that your tale is that of a madman's, but I am your father. If I could not read the truths and falsehoods of my children, then I'd be a fool. Since you've already taken everything into consideration, then I'll say no more, but remember, Hachi. Family comes before crown and gold."

"I didn't forget."

"Then make sure to immortalize it in our legacy."

~o~

Melisandre was in the dungeons.

The dungeons, despite my initial thoughts, were not located on the last floor or in the basement. Not that Casterly Rock would have a basement. Being the size that it was, it led all the way down to the ocean where the port was located at. The prison itself was actually located in the middle range of the floors. If it was located at the bottom, it would make it easy for escapees to flee by sea. From the middle, however, they would have to go either up to the castle or down to the port to escape. The thing was that Casterly Rock was about the height of a skyscraper. What did this mean for me? It meant that it took me a long time to get down there. I wasn't not looking forward to the return trip. Because of the distance, I had to be escorted by two knights for the entire journey. I felt bad for them since their armor was obviously heavy, yet they were trained enough—or paid enough—to not spout a word of complaint.

Still, the long trip gave me time to think, time to reflect, and time to come to terms with what I had said.

Quite frankly, I gave in to his pressure.

I felt that I was strong mentally, but when push came to shove, I was not like how I imagined. Should I clench my fists and swear that I would get stronger? Yeah, that would be the proper action of a protagonist, the one that I was supposed to be, but I wasn't exactly like a shounen protagonist. I went with the flow, thinking that this time…

 _Expecting others to read your mind is delusional._

…would be different.

 _Hikigaya-kun._

That something…

 _Hikki._

…would change..

 _Senpai._

Dammit.

Lost in myself as I was, it wasn't until we arrived at the entrance to the prison that I finally came back to myself. Finally placed my thoughts aside to focus on what was in front of me. Specifically, the prison. Well, this wasn't actually the only prison. There were smaller ones located on closer floors, but for the high profile or long-term prisoners that they didn't want escaping, then those would be relegated to this high security prison in the middle level of Casterly Rock.

After I had given the sealed letter to the prison warden, I was escorted with even more guards down the stairs and into the dungeons. There weren't cells with bars that you could into; they were more like small rooms with wooden doors and a small lid you could open to see inside. It wasn't until we reached halfway through the hallway that the guard stopped at a particular door and pulled a long latch to unlock it. I felt it was pretty careless that they didn't use a padlock with a key, but I supposed that they felt pretty confident because of the location and the amount of guards. I would have to change that notion later regardless. When I looked inside after the door swung open, I found the priestess of R'hllor standing, as if awaiting my arrival.

"I've been waiting for you, my lord."

Maybe she was.

Her ankles were chained to the wall, and her clothes were ripped and shreded in some places while stained with dust and dirt in others. From the skin that was showing, there was cuts and bruises, purpling with time. Yet, in spite of all that, she was standing as if none of that bothered her. Judging from the bright smile on her face, it didn't or more likely, she went to great lengths to hide.

"Thanks for waiting."

~o~

The journey back up was a lot more tiring than going down, of course. It was made slower not by the former prisoner, but by me. Apparently, my level of stamina was less than a priestess who had been imprisoned for a day and knights who wore heavy metal armor. Well, I wasn't going to exert myself unless I had to, so we took frequent breaks. On some of the floors were armories and training rooms. There was even servant quarters, though I suppose they were of a lower status than the ones up top since they were given rooms within the rock rather than in the castle. There were many who stopped to watch me since it wasn't everyday that that the Lannister heir came to this area.

I couldn't really understand where she was getting her strength from. Prisoners were obviously not afforded much food, but when I offered some, she refused. Well, it had only been a single day so it probably wasn't too bad, especially since they didn't seem to have tortured her, but I never expected a priestess to have that kind of constitution. Though, if I had stayed asleep for another day, there was a chance that they would have resorted to torture or worse.

By the time we reached the top, I was fairly exhausted. My hands were on my knees, and I was breathing by the mouthful.

"Are you alright, milord?" The first of my knight escorts was looking at me with exasperation in his eyes.

"I'm…fine…"

"If you stop skipping your lessons every so often, then maybe you wouldn't be so out of breath."

I simply looked up and stared at him.

"…milord," he added as an afterthought.

I shrugged my shoulders even while I was still trying to catch my breath. In all sense, I should attend every single combat lesson and grind out practices even outside those times like a true protagonist. However, this wasn't a game with tangible results like leveling up. It wasn't cut and dry that the more you do, the better you get. I could practice endlessly for a week, but revert back in skill if I stopped for a few days. Even veteran swordsmen were always practicing all the time, even after their prime. That meant that I would essentially have to practice forever because of skill decay. Well, to old age or death, but the concept was still the same. I just didn't have the motivation to do such joyless repetition for the rest of my life.

~o~

When I woke up, I found myself lying on my bed in my bedroom. I couldn't remember how I got here. If this was a cliche, then it would be because I somehow did some heroic act that ended with me becoming unconscious and unable to remember it. Of course, that was impossible since I was not the protag—

Oh wait, I was the protagonist. I even had a quest to save the world with my enemy being the mythical White Walkers, artificial winter necromancers bent on turning the world into a zombie wonderland. Seemed fitting enough. An army of undead that was coming to exterminate all life. It was definitely a medieval fantasy. Well, more medieval than fantasy, but it was getting there.

The obvious thing would be to deny my status as a protagonist, but that—in itself—was a protagonist plotline. It would eventually result in the cliche where I would be put in a life-threatening situation and had to accept my status as a protagonist to save the day. As much as I would want to fight against this fate, the alternative would be death so it wouldn't be like I had a choice. However, if I accepted the status early enough, the life-threatening situation probably wouldn't arise. Probably.

Unfortunately, what came after that acceptance would be more of the same life-threatening situation, just different components and composition. If only I could find a true protagonist to switch places with, then everything would be fine.

"My lord, I see you've awaken." I turned my gaze to the side to see Melisandre sitting in a chair, wearing a clean, new set of clothes. Where she managed to find it, I didn't know, but in spite of that, the bruises and fading cuts were still visible on her skin, even though they had been washed and cleaned.

"How did I get here?"

"You collapsed. The knights carried you here."

"And left you here?"

"Of course not, my lord," she said with a cunning smile. "But I found my own way back in."

There was something she wasn't telling me, like how did she escape them, but I didn't bother to pry into it further. "How long was I asleep?"

"Four hours."

So it was a short nap. I closed my eyes. "Melisandre."

"Yes, my lord?"

"How long before the Long Night?"

"Sometime within this life. The time will never be clear until it is."

"Why now? Why not before?"

"My apologies, my lord, but that isn't in my realm of knowledge."

You know, this all only started to happen after Zaimokuza returned to this world. Why not before, in the thousand year interval after the first Long Night? I would bet it was because Zaimokuza was influenced by anime culture. There was no other explanation for having all these events to only start occurring now. A hero—sadly me—required an adversary to show their worth, thus Zaimokuza may have had a hand in expediting this White Walker issue. They were probably doing something like sleeping until Zaimokuza rampaged through their homes and ran away with their beloved ice cube collection. I had no evidence of that, but it was suspicious enough to garner some thoughts.

He gave me power over fire, which was the opposite element from the ice of the White Walkers. That, in itself, was very telling. If I hadn't been reincarnated into the world, would all of this have happened? Maybe. Maybe not.

With all these speculations piling up, it was starting to paint a bleak picture. Should I change his family name to Kotomine?

However, there was something I had to clear up first. I turned my head a bit to get the most comfortable viewing angle that I could stay in for a long while as I gazed at her face. This was going to be a long conversation, but if there was something I excelled at, it was reading people, and I needed to know if I could trust her.

"So who are you?"

~o~

I couldn't read her.

I had learned practically her entire life story from her first memory to the present, though in a more summarized format unless I asked for more details which I did more than a few times. Sometimes it was to test her while other times, it was truly for my own curiosity. However, I couldn't read her expression at all. It was like a block of ice at times and a passionate inferno at other moments. It was too extreme, her expressions, and it was beyond the norm. I would probably have to vet her with Zaimokuza later, but I doubted she would have been entrusted to me by him if she was traitorous or had ice in her veins. He probably would have said something too if there was a problem with her. Still, you couldn't be too careful.

There was some useful information here. She was a shadowbinder, a type of mage that specialized in manipulating the shadows.

She was also a few hundred year old granny.

When I said she summarized her history, I meant that it was really really summarized. Even then, it was long passed nightfall by the time it was done. I had to have dinner sent to my room, giving the excuse to the maid that I was still exhausted from my "journey" to the lower levels of Casterly Rock. When I tried to give Melisandre something to eat, it was also when I found out she didn't require food at all to survive. Or anything more than an hour of sleep.

It was without a doubt that she was revealing a lot more to me than she normally would.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Why shouldn't I? If I can serve you in any way, I will."

"But why?"

She stared at me for a moment as if mulling over my statement. "Ah, so that's it. I understand now. I apologize. I didn't realize you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"That you are the reincarnation of Azor Ahai."

"What? That old legend?" Of course I had heard about it. All I had to do was read anything about the Long Night, and it would eventually talk about how Azor Ahai stopped it with a sword called Lightbringer. She was reaching far into a black hole if she thought I was essentially the second coming.

"You do not believe?" Melisandre smiled. "Do not be confused. The prophecy from the ancient books of Asshai are quite clear. It stated that the God of Light would send Azor Hai to be reborn into the world to fight against the coming darkness. You fit the prophecy perfectly."

"How so?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling what her answer would be.

"I heard you, talking to the God of Flames and Shadows in the tent that night. Only one such as you could ever speak directly to our god," Melisandre said, his voice becoming increasingly passionate as she went on. "I could not hear his voice, but I heard yours."

She grabbed my hand in both of hers. My cheeks reddened slightly, and I tried to pull my hand out, but the grip was too tight. In fact, it was starting to hurt.

"I've worked so long and so hard, through the many cloudy futures." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "To finally be in the presence of the Warrior of Fire, to know that everything I had done had lead to this very moment… It's almost too much for me to hold back."

"That's…great…" Her grip tightened even more. I was pretty sure she was cutting off my blood circulation now.

"I will do anything for you. Say the word, and I'll gladly sacrifice myself down to the last drop of my blood."

"Speaking of blood, mind letting go of my hand? I think it's turning purple now."

"Ah." She released my hand. I wrung my hand a couple of times before massaging it. It felt like a thousand ants running over my skin.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Even though I said that, I was still massaging my hand.

Melisandre said assumed her more stoic appearance once more. "I apologize for my lack of control."

Now, I understood why Zaimokuza chose her. Despite being hundreds of years old, she was a kuudere. Definitely a kuudere. There were even hints of a yandere under there. I imagined that Zaimokuza would be breathing heavily if he was here. This was right up his alley.

"I can see why he likes you. If you looked any younger, you'd be a legal loli."

"If you so desire, I can—"

"No, no, I'm not into that." I didn't want her to finish that sentence. The fact that she even offered meant she wasn't above cradle robbing, which this technically was. Not that I really mind since I had seen enough doujins to get used to the idea of long lived elves and a thousand years old demoness, but somehow, it was still disturbing. That was a bit of a contradiction that I couldn't exactly reconcile. "So what now?"

"We must prepare for the Long Night."

"How?"

"Warriors, supplies, weapons," Melisandre said. "Food. With the Long Night comes the darkest of winters. No crops will grow without the sun, and the light will never return until the Others are pushed back."

Pushed back. That choice of wording was telling. "Pushed back to where?"

"Beyond the wall in the north."

"Where beyond the wall?"

"I…don't know." She averted her eyes to the side. "The ancient texts say very little about their origins, and the visions from the fire are unclear."

"Visions from the fire?"

"Yes, the God of Light sends the faithful visions through the fire, but their meanings are not always clear."

Well, that made things easy. I just had to ask Zaimokuza about them directly. I almost felt pity for the amount of charades that Zaimokuza had to do with his priests and priestesses.

Almost.

~o~

"Welcome, comrade, to the Game of Flames where we—wait, wait, wait, come back, Hachiman!"

It took all my willpower to shut the door after stepping into the room instead of before. Making sure that the door was secure, I turned back to the brazier sitting in the middle of my room. It was not really a good idea to have the brazier here in the first place, considering how many flammable materials were within reach of it, but I needed the privacy that only my personal room could afford. Luckily, the coal didn't produce too much smoke though it was only a matter of time before it would become unbearable, despite leaving the window open. If I left the brazier next to the window, it would solve the issue, but having the conversation broadcasted outside my window would defeat the whole purpose of putting the brazier in here in the first place. It would be a one-sided conversation to any eavesdroppers, according to Melisandre, but it was still a bad idea.

"You took your time. I was expecting you to call me up sooner, comrade," the flaming head said. It had been an entire week since our last conversation, but it wasn't that simple to steal a brazier and drag it to my room without being caught. With how the guards patrolled and the relatively sporadic movements of the maids, I had to pretend it was part of the scenery at times. I couldn't give an excuse for it since what kind of noble would drag around a brazier? I could order someone to do it for me, but it would eventually get to Tywin's ear. So in the end, I had to do it myself.

"I went through a lot of trouble getting this stupid thing into here." Memorizing the guards' patrol schedule and avoiding the sporadic movements of the servants while dragging the brazier was not something I wanted to repeat again. I had to use a trick that I often used in stealth games which was the coin/pebble toss. It was basically throwing a small object at someplace far off to distract the guards. After trying, I could safely say that it had a fifty percent fail rate. Some people thought of that as fifty percent success rate, but I was never cheerfully optimistic like that. The glass was half-empty, not half-full.

"Well, comrade, your work has paid off. Rejoice, for I am here to—stop, stop! I'll stop so put down that cup. Don't extinguish my flames!"

I placed the cup of water back down on a nearby table.

"So Hachiman, let's resume our talk."

"I need more information about the Long Night," I said. "When will it start?"

"Twenty years…thirty… Maybe fifty years? Probably fifty years. Well, it's hard to tell until the White Walkers start producing their forces en masse."

"Aren't you able to see some of the future? You always give visions in your fires, right?"

"Haha, about that. They aren't so much premonitions as they are educated guesses."

"What?" I asked in a deadpan voice.

"Sometimes, I use my powers to get genuine visions that are cryptic even to me, but most of the time, I construct these images myself and show them to my followers, so they aren't fragments of a possible future. The thing about these 'visions' is that people consider them to be facts," Zaimokuza said, complete with air quotes using his hands. "It's like they don't understand that photoshop exists, so they believe the photos entirely without doubt. They will strive to make it come true or prevent it. Either way, they judge their success or failure by the vision coming true or not. If I put a vision of them killing their parents, they might go out and do it. Or they might just run to another country to prevent it. However, they won't ever doubt the vision, even when it doesn't come true. They'll just think they succeeded in changing the future."

"If your priests could hear you now…"

"Let's keep it our little secret." The flaming head exaggeratedly winked.

"…ugh, I'm feeling goosebumps all over my arms."

"It's a reminder of our bond. That close tie between us that nothing can break apart—stop, stop! Put down that cup!"

I put down the cup. "Do you trust Melisandre?"

"I do. She's obsessed with me. If I came down there, I'm afraid she'll ravage my bones." His flaming forehead furrowed. "Don't tell her we're getting me a body."

"I thought you'd like someone like her."

"She's like Hikaru Genji. She gets around."

I quirked an eyebrow at that, but I changed the topic instead. "What's the plan for dealing with the White Walkers?"

"Plan…?" The flaming head seemed to shrug. "Build up armies."

"For someone who calls himself Blademaster General, you're not acting much like one. It's not like an army is self-sustaining. Expecting to keep a standing army up for a long time? If the war happens soon, that's fine, but if it takes fifty years, then there won't be any money or supplies left by that time. Can't we just wait until on that until we see signs of the White Walkers?"

"Comrade, it'll be too late by then," Zaimokuza said in a serious tone. "What If I send a vision to my faithful to come to Westeros? Maybe get a crusade going in Essos?"

"That has so many problems with it that I don't even know where to start," I responded. "Sending a horde of religious fanatics across the ocean? It'll look like an invasion to anyone from Westeros. Even if they do arrive safely without logistic problems, they're not used to fighting on a winter wonderland."

"Well, at least I'm trying to solve the problem!"

"Let's focus on something else," I said. "You were there for the last Long Night. Tell me what you remember."

"All of it? That's too much to talk about in one session. Maybe if we schedule a couple hundred more…"

"Forget it. Just answer some questions."

"Go ahead."

"What was the most devastating elements of the Long Night?"

"The army of the undead and the lack of food," Zaimokuza said. "Everyone that dies will rise again for the the Others as long as their bodies remain relatively intact and within range of the Others' powers. The more casualties you have, the less likely your army will survive. It's a snowball effect. The only way to win is to kill the leaders or completely eradicate the opposing side with minimal deaths. As for food, it becomes scarce since there is no sunlight to grow crops. Many animal species will eventually die out. By the end of the Long Night, they had to survive on fish, insect, tree barks, tree saps, mushrooms, and roots. There were winter animals, but those became sparse from over-hunting. For meat, people resorted to cannibalism of the dead or defeated."

"You don't mean…"

"Yes, from the undead army as long as long as it was fresh enough. The winter cold keeps it fresh for a long time. Though, for their own dead, they wait until the corpses rise, then slay it before they cut off the meat and cook it."

I turned a little green at the thought.

"This won't be easy. Not by a long-shot. And there are many more enemies besides the Others," Zaimokuza said. "I think you will recognize it if I say that this is basically medieval zombie apocalypse: winter edition."

"Other humans."

"That's right. With things this bad, people will break mentally. Lots of crazies making a mess." Zaimokuza shook his flaming head. "If there is scarcity, there'll be thieves and betrayers. As long as it feels like the end of the world, there'll also be those who'll want to indulge in all the pleasures they can have before they die. Lots of nasty stuff. Well, we saw some of those in movies anyways so it's not that much of a difference."

"The more I hear about this, the worse it gets," I said. "With the exception of Dorne, all of the great houses are united under the Targaryens. That means that for this to succeed, I need the support of the direct royal family." I paused for a moment to frown. "I can't even convince Tywin. They definitely won't believe me."

"Then don't tell them?"

I rubbed my head as I sighed. The more we talk about it, the less of a plan there seemed to be.

"What about a marriage alliance?" Zaimokuza paused. "Oh right, you're already engaged."

"Wait, how did you know I was engaged?"

"I'm a god. I can watch the world to a limited extent. And I hear what my faithful tells me through the flames."

"But you don't have many followers in Westeros."

"Exactly. I'm pretty blind over here unless I look into things myself, but that's boring. It's like watching a historical drama without the drama and just everyday slice of life all the time. The most boring reality show ever. Anyways, I only heard about your arranged marriage from Melisandre." Zaimokuza nodded his flaming head. "If you want more of my help, spread my religion so more people can gossip to my flames."

"You mean praying?"

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"That's… Never mind. I'll see what I can do." I frowned. "I don't like pushing this onto my siblings, but if I can't break my current engagement, there's not much else I can do."

"You don't seem happy about your engagement."

"While love and romance are the lies of youth, legacies are the lies of the old," I said. "It's true form is just an endless cycle of reproduction and death with 'superior' matches. I'll spawn my kids with my match-up, and my children spawn their kids as it has been for generations upon generations until eventually, someone gives birth to a bad enough apple that the bloodline ends. It's not like a RPG where each generation gets better and better; it's more like a random number generator for each succeeding generation. What's the point of predetermined wife when it'll eventually end anyways beyond the control of anyone?" In a much lower voice, I muttered: "Besides, she haven't sent me a response letter in a long time. Nice girls are bitches, as expected."

"You're stomping on the sacredness of pairings!"

"Pairing? Basically the plot point where the main character gets together with the first dere type they encounter."

"Don't you understand that in doujins, the pairings can change?!"

"Derivative works? You're not even denying that it can't be in the source," I said.

"…in any case, we still need—"

"Don't change the subject!"

Zaimokuza turned his head to the side. "Tch."

"Don't you 'tch' me, you bastard!"

"I have no father!"

"…I can't believe you said that with a straight face."

"You know what I mean," Zaimokuza said. "Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing. We need obsidian. Well, they call it dragonglass here."

"Why do we need that?"

"To harm the White Walkers. Even just a scratch will destroy them. It just needs to touch their skin. However, obsidian is more fragile than iron." The flaming face made an exaggerated frown, almost like a clown. "If it hits their armor or weapon instead, they may break after a few uses. It'll also have no effect on the army of undead as well."

"So I need a lot of disposable obsidian. I'll figure out where I can mine them; I just need to find a volcano."

"I have you covered, comrade. One of my priests had already discovered a large deposit."

"Oh? Where at?"

"Dragonstone."

Damn it, Zaimokuza.

~o~

A/N: Thanks for all the comment and critique on the last one, wow I never expected to get so much feed back. Glad that a fanfic can still surprise a lot of people even in this day and age. Quite proud of that, hopefully that trend will continue!


	8. Chapter 7: Life

Chapter 7: Life

~o~

I was sitting in the library once again, reading through another of the tutorial books for magic. There were so many books now ever since the expedition that carried Melisandre over to Lannisport. The thing about these books was that most of them weren't for complete beginners. They assumed you knew certain things, as if you had a magic teacher or were a native of Asshai. Of course, I would have asked Melisandre to teach me, but she was unfortunately carrying out her latest order of Zaimokuza which was to preach to the people of Lannisport. She still came around for her sessions with me, though she didn't have much time for anything else. While the street preaching wasn't explicitly allowed by Tywin, he hadn't said anything about it yet. In fact, according to the latest gossip I heard, most people were just ignoring her in Lannisport, treating her like another beggar. Until the newest expedition comes back with some more priests and priestesses of Rh'lor, I was going to be on my own for this. Still, it wasn't too bad. I was here for another purpose.

Turning my head to the side, I looked at Jaime who was seated on my right, cheerfully reading through the fiction novel I told him to read. It was one of the better ones that I had found from scouring the library for years. Occasionally, he would ask me what a word meant, and I would tell him the definition. It wasn't always like this; it had taken two years for him to actually be able to read on his own. However, I wasn't done yet. I wanted him to be proficient at it so I slotted out a reading time in the library for both of us. He still wasn't really interested in reading, but with both of us here, he didn't try to avoid it like before. I remembered having to drag him in at times in the past.

Jaime flipped a page, fully concentrated on his task. He hadn't even noticed that I was watching him. Well, I had to get back to my own reading. Looking down at the page, I rotated my neck to work out the kinks and got back to trying to comprehend it.

Time passed us by, and by the end of the second hourglass, we had both gotten through a number of pages. It was only then that I tapped his shoulder, catching his attention.

"It's time to go."

Jaime blinked. "It is?"

"Yeah, let's get going before Cersei gets mad at us for being late."

Jaime placed the bookmark between the pages before shutting the book. We both got up and stretched out bodies. I had never been much of a sports person, but when I had to keep doing sword fighting practice, I got into the habit of doing the stretches I remembered from Earth. I taught both Jaime and Cersei how to do it too. They didn't do it much at first until I forced them to. Now, it had become somewhat of a habit.

To be honest, I didn't like practicing swordfighting, but Jaime refused to read if I didn't keep up with the practices so it was a trade-off. Sometimes, it felt like having a younger brother instead of a twin brother. It was a good thing that I already had experience with younger siblings before, otherwise things would have turned out differently.

We left the room and walked down the hallway. On the way there, Jaime waved at a few people that we passed by. They would get in the motion of waving back, but when they noticed my presence slightly behind him, they would quickly turn away and get back to their job. Was I really that scary? Probably. I was the heir to Casterly Rock, and I didn't exactly interact with people much. I was still polite to everyone, even those of low statuses, unlike most of my family, but I never really bothered to get close to them.

I wasn't like Hayato. I couldn't get close to people that easily. Even if I were to do it, I didn't think it would be a good idea. If a rich, high society kind of person suddenly came up to me and wanted to act friendly with me, I would think they were pitying me. Probably looking at me like an endangered species in a zoo. That would make me resent them all the more. No, I wasn't like Hayato. I wouldn't subject people to that until their hatred grows so far and wide that they would take a dagger to my back. If I wanted to help them, I would help them from afar.

And I planned to do that. Well, later, not now.

In stories, it seemed so easy to implement change. The main character would start out as a king or a savior of a village, and from there, any change he put forth would be implemented immediately and usually without much opposition. The results would be rather fast too. I wasn't in any kind of position to try that, but I doubted that it would be that easy. Having to get approval from Tywin first was stifling the process, and I wasn't going to be able to become the head for a very long time. The only way he could abdicate this seat was by either death or taking the black. By taking the black, what it meant was joining the Night's Watch at the Wall in the North. However, both prospects were bad; I wasn't about to kill him off or send him to the freezing North to fight and die alongside convicted criminals.

Of course, in those very same stories, there were other ways to power through certain game mechanics. You could level up, get powerful, fight monsters, and ransack dungeons. Here? You could only fight bandits really. Putting aside the fact that I have never killed anyone, what would I gain from defeating bandits? There were no special or magical items I could get, and I had no need for loot since I had plenty of money. The only thing that I could think of was getting experience, creating a safer environment, and gaining some fame. Not that the Westerlands had too much banditry in the first place since Tywin kept his iron gauntlets tight on the matter. In that sense, you were pretty much stuck in whatever power grade you were born in, which did make sense since Westeros was a pretty stable environment, even with how unfair and archaic it was.

Finally reaching our destination, I opened the door to the room.

Inside, Cersei had her hands crossed with an angry frown on her face, which somehow made her seem adorable than normal.

"You're late!"

For the next four hours, we played with Cersei as the game master.

~o~

"Hachi, what did you want to talk to me here for? And why can't Jaime be here? The top of the rampart is really high…"

"Cersei, give me a moment. I'm thinking."

Food. That was the topic on my mind for the longest time. I needed a way to produce more food, store more food, and keep them fresh. The best way was probably to introduce modern farming techniques like crop rotation. Unfortunately, being the former high school loner that I was, I never bothered to learn about any of that so I knew absolutely nothing on how to do it. Same thing applied for design and construction of silos for more storage space. As for freshness, all I had was just salt or an icebox. Salting food was what they did now, and that wasn't increasing the lifespan of food by much. An icebox would be ideal, if it wasn't for the fact that I would need to constantly add in more ice to replace the melted puddles. As this was the Westernlands, it would be near impossible to acquire ice on the long term.

During the Long Night, food would become the greatest commodity. Without it, people would go insane, and that would spell the end. I had to think about it as if it was a zombie apocalypse or a colony ship crash landing on a foreign world. In this way, it gave me an idea of what was necessary and what wasn't. The thing was that I needed more than the amount required to feed the Westerlands; I needed enough to feed the entirety of Westeros, and for a long time at that. Refugees to my territory was almost guaranteed, and turning them away was not something I wanted or was willing to do. This was the current biggest problem so I sent Zaimokuza to negotiate with the Earth gods for the information.

Unfortunately, that would take time. Time that I had…plenty of at the moment, but I probably would not have enough in a few years. I wasn't too sure if I could convince Tywin of implementing my plans, especially since I was this young. If a elementary schooler just came up and told me that I needed to change the way I rule, I wouldn't believe him. Well, maybe I would but not without some form of evidence.

Evidence like my flame powers.

Actually no, that wouldn't work. I remembered how he looked when I showed him my abilities as proof that a god existed. It was like he bit a bitter melon. He gave the benefit of a doubt, but he was still skeptical all the same. That was just the kind of man he was, and after living all these years with him, it was impossible not to have a gauge of his personality.

"Hachi, it's hot out here."

"I'm still thinking."

"You always do that."

"I'll be done in a moment."

"You already said that five minutes ago!"

"Five minutes and a moment."

"Negative ten Cersei points."

"Nooooooo," I said in a deadpan voice and expression, just to make sure my sarcasm got through.

Everything else came back to the Crownlands. I needed that region to establish a trade route from Essos and also a landing point for any armies that Zaimokuza sends. However, that place was under the jurisdiction of the Targaryens. They currently had their own brand of crazy going around. Last year, Prince Jaehaerys was born. Doesn't sound bad, right? The problem was that he died later that same year. After that, King Aerys executed the wet nurse, his mistress, and his mistress's family under the belief that they had something to do with the prince's death. I heard the rumors. The so-called confession was tortured out of his mistress and her family, but each one differed greatly from each other. It was more than obvious that they "confessed" to stop the torture. Yet, in spite of that, they were still executed.

I wasn't one to base my opinions on hearsay, but the frequency of these events were increasing. It was getting harder and harder to discount it as just rumors when it involved something hard to fake like executions. The girl was the daughter of a household knight, but their entire family was erased, down to the last infant child. Death was a fact of life in Westeros, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. I would assume those on the lower ranks like peasants have suffered worse, yet news of such events were not really told or spread around unless there was a raid or a massacre. Dealing with the Targaryens would be dangerous, such that even suggesting a marriage with them started to feel like standing on a knife's edge. I knew Tywin was friends with Aerys during their childhood, but I wondered if that would hold up now to his crazy streak, especially since I heard about how the king had a thing for Joanna.

It wasn't like I could just outright invade the Crownlands. If it was under any of the other great houses, then it could be possible. Messy and incredibly dangerous, but possible. However, attacking the traditional land that was usually ruled by the crown prince was like asking the entirety of Westeros to come out and crush my house. Now, assuming that it was possible and not suicidal, it would essentially create a line of territory from the Westerlands to the Crownlands, but such a line was fragile. It could easily be attacked from both the north and south without any real defense to hold it.

There were, however, two other choices for port location. Shipbreaker bay and Dorne. Both had problems. Shipbreaker bay was aptly named for the deadly frequency that ships tended to break on the jagged rocks hidden under the waves. If there was a safer way to get through that, then the port would have been much more prosperous than it currently was. The other option, Dorne, was not really too feasible since it was too far to the south. While it was true that I already had a connection there from my engagement that would allow it to become an open port for me, the desert and terrain made it such that if I was going to do that, I might as well just send them all straight to Lannisport instead.

Well, there was a third alternative: the Bay of Crabs. It led into the rivers that went through the Riverlands. The problem with this was that the Riverlands wasn't a united land. Every major war almost always went through the Riverlands since it was in the middle of Westeros, which meant that their land was often enough the battlefield, leading to erratic borders and tons of fiefdoms. While the Tully may rule over it, it was more akin too a conglomerate of individual fiefdoms. Without real borderlines, conflicts were common, and that made it hard for any single Lord to pursue bandits far enough without stepping in each other's toes. This allowed banditry to thrive there.

It wouldn't normally be a big deal, but this was a river. There was space for a limited number of ships before it clogged up both ingoing and outgoing lanes which meant that the escort was limited as well. With land being so close, bandits have been known use the narrower sections to board and anchor the ships. That wasn't even mentioning that some of these bandits were actually knights and men-at-arms in disguise. The richer boats and foreign boats were often the target of these bandits, especially since none of the nearby locals would be angered because of it. If something happened to their ships, they would have to let it go since they could hardly start a manhunt in someone else's territory.

If I wanted a real route, it had to go through the Crownlands. There was no real way around it, not without making a significant detour that would cost both time and money as well as lives. If I had them sail around the continent to Lannisport, there was a increasingly large chance they would be raided by pirates eventually. The more pirate raids there were, the less merchants and items that would come to the Westerlands, significantly increasing the prices. No, I needed the direct route through the Crownlands.

I turned to look at Cersei. My sister looked back at me curiously.

"What do you think of Rhaegar Targaryen?" I asked. No point in beating around the bush. "Do you like him? He's pretty good-looking, right?"

"Huh? Um…erm…" Cersei averted her gaze, a faint dusting of red upon her cheeks. "Did father tell you?"

Well, wasn't that something.

~o~

I entered Tywin's office without ceremony. He stared at my entrance without a hint of surprise.

"Hachi," Tywin said. "This room isn't a playground for children."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not playing around." I walked over and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. The piles of parchments and books were neatly organized on his desk, in small stacks. It seemed more for appearances than actual work. "When were you going to tell me that you planned to have Cersei marry Rhaegar?"

"So your sister told you," Tywin stated evenly.

"Yes."

"I see. I did not want anyone to know until it had been arranged."

"She seems smitten." I would have said that she had a crush, but that kind of term wasn't known in this world. "When do you plan on arranging it?"

"She wasn't supposed to tell anyone until it became set in stone," Tywin said in a fairly annoyed manner. "I will suggest it to the king when an opportune times comes."

"That's vague," I said. "You're the Hand of the King. You talk with him all the time."

"I'll not have you take that tone with me, boy."

"…sorry, father."

"The king is still mourning the loss of his child. Now is not the time."

"It's not going to get any better, and the Targaryens aren't known for being stable," I said grimly. "Are you sure it's a good idea for Cersei to be married into their family?"

"She will be queen. I will settle for no less." His statement brooked no argument. Still, I had my doubts.

"And if she doesn't. What then?"

"She will be queen," Tywin repeated, as if saying it again made it true. Maybe it did.

If he was going to expend this much effort, then it was probably as good as settled. Once he set his mind on something, he could be pretty stubborn. I certainly wasn't going to do any better than him. Besides, there were other issues that I needed to take care of.

"I'll leave that to you then."

"I did not know that I needed your approval," Tywin said bitingly.

"Still, you have it now," I said. "Moving on. I'm going to send a messenger to bring more priests of Rh'lor to Lannisport."

Tywin narrowed his eyes slightly. "You believe in this religion?"

"We reached an agreement," I said as I raised my hand, letting a flicker of fire dance upon it. "And a Lannister pays his debt."

"The High Septon will send more septons to Lannisport in response."

"Then they can compete with the priests of Rh'lor for more faithful," I said. "The faith militant doesn't exist anymore. They're no threat."

"No, Hachi. You'd do well to learn that all can become threats in their own way."

"It's not like I'm going to kick them out. I'm just giving the people the power of choice," I said. "I won't force anyone to believe in any religion, but I won't deny it to them either."

"The power of choice? To the unwashed masses? They'd choose the first glitter in front of their eyes," Tywin said. "Put a gold dragon in front of a farmer, and he will skewer and eat his wife for it. The sheep cannot be trusted with choice."

"Given the chance, given the opportunity, they can rise up above their station in life. In time, I hope to provide that opportunity." In my previous life, these opportunities were given to everyone. It didn't mean I took advantage of them, but I was at least given the choice, though I chose not to get caught in the corrupt wheel of corporate society.

"Dangerous words. You'd do well not to repeat them outside this room."

"Choice brings ambition, yes, but it also brings loyalty and skill." I stared at him unblinkingly. "A peasant that can fight like a knight or a commoner who can think like a maester without being beholden to any organization like the Citadel is a useful tool."

"You think they will stay loyal to you, to us, to the Lannister family?" His voice became tighter and grimmer. "The moment they can, they'll put a dagger in your back just to raise their position. The smallfolk cannot be trusted with that power."

"And the nobles can?"

"They have their families and their houses. The actions of one will reflect on their entire house."

I stopped and gritted my teeth. Yeah, I didn't think of that. The consequences of a noble's actions could lead to the eradication of their entire house, thus restricting their schemes. If someone with nothing to lose gained power, then there was a chance something bad would happen since they could have nothing to lose and everything to gain. That chance would grow as time went on and more commoners gained power; the chance that someone would betray me.

However, I knew what kind of world would come about if I just gave people the chance, the opportunity to succeed. I had seen it with my own eyes, lived through it. I couldn't very well erased that memory.

"It's a risk I'm going to have to take," I said. "Just take a look at Castle Black. Most of them are commoners, but they banded together. All they need is purpose, reward, and a stake in it. I'm not a gambler, but I know where to place my bets."

"And you'd put the entire Lannister family at risk for this?"

"If I have to, then yes." I stared at him unflinchingly, gazed straight into his sharp and unyielding eyes. "I cannot win without taking risks."

Tywin stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "I am the Lord of Casterly Rock! So long as I live, you will not doom our family with this recklessness!"

"And how long will that be? I am the heir to Casterly Rock. Eventually, it'll become my decision when I become the master of this castle." My heart was thumping in my chest, but I couldn't back down. Not now. It was too late to. I had to move forward or drown. "Are you going to live in fear of that day? The day when I take over? Or are you going to force me to join the Night's Watch and have Jaime become your heir? Do you really think that he can be a better lord than I can?"

Tywin swung out his arm to the side, smashing it against the neat stacks on his desk and sending both books and parchments flying. I could feel his anger as he resumed his glare on me. I had rarely seen him truly be angry because that was the type of man he was. He held it in, sharpened it like a whetstone to a blade, and used it to cut down his enemies without mercy. To explode like this was both an indication of how angry he was and how much he cared about this subject.

"Father, have you ever known me to be stupid? I've thought this through. The Long Night is coming. I know you don't believe me, but I have to prepare the Westerlands for it." I locked my gaze with his. "I'm not preparing for war. Not yet. However, I can improve this land and the people on it so that we'll have a better chance to survive. I'm not sure if it'll work or if it'll change anything in the end, but I can't do nothing. Even if the Long Night never happens, the Westerland will still benefit if my work succeeds. We will benefit. All I'm asking is that you to trust me."

"You're asking me me to trust a boy, a child of nine namedays?"

"No, I'm asking you to trust me, your son, Hachi Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock," I said. "I believe in you so believe in me."

"You said these words before." Did I? Probably, since I did steal them from a certain anime with drills.

"And if you ask the same question, I'll say them again. And again. Because that is what I believe in, and I'll keep believing in it no matter what."

Tywin closed his eyes.

I waited.

"I'm not a sentimental man," Tywin finally said as he opened his eyes. "I'm not superstitious. I do not believe in the seven-pointed star nor in the red god. I do not believe in magic. I have ruled the Westerlands with an iron fist for many years."

I stayed quiet.

"Yet, you have overturned more of my views than I care to admit." Tywin looked into my eyes and breathed deeply. "And I will believe in your insanity once more, but do not think that I will close my eyes. I am giving you far more power than my own father gave to me before his death; far more than any would give a child of nine namedays. Do not abuse my trust."

I let out the breath I held.

"Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet, boy. Your trials have only just begun."

~o~

I was lying in bed, but I couldn't sleep. There was just too much on my mind.

Power.

What was power?

If I was to simplify it, it would be: doing what you want, when you want, to whoever you want.

When I put it this way, it was easier to see why power corrupts. In Japan, it was difficult to have power like this, as it was regulated by government and police. While money did have a way of circumventing that restriction, it was still within a limited scope. Even if you were the richest person in the world, the moment the truth comes out that you murdered someone in cold blood, it would be difficult to suppress the resulting public outcry.

Here, it was different. If you were lucky—emphasis on lucky—to be born with the right bloodline and heritage, you could murder someone in front of a crowded market and get away with it as long as that person did not have any backing. Even then, if their backing was much lower than yours, it would only result in a minor hassle. Life and death was dirt cheap, and the people on the bottom rung endured it all without a word like obedient slaves because they knew that they had no power and no choice in the matter. That was why people were very respectful to nobles; their lives and deaths were based on the whims of the nobles.

It was happening all across the kingdom. I didn't doubt that. It was the logical conclusion that, if given a way, there would always be people that would abuse it. A knife used for cutting vegetables could also be used to kill someone. Yet, in spite of that knowledge, I didn't really feel anything. It was too far from my sight. I had power. A great deal of power over a great deal of lives. The Westerlands was the range of my authority and responsibility. I could rampage, murder, or massacre my way through a village without repercussion. If it was a minor house, it would generate some outcry, but a peasant village? None would say a word. Well, maybe there would be grumbling about the lost tithe in the shadows behind my back, but nothing more than that. The thing about being born into a higher social status was that they sometimes viewed the people below, the commoners, as non-human. If you looked at them like that, you couldn't sympathize with them. If that was the case, you could do anything to them since they were only equivalent to animals. To swine. It was just the nature of life in Westeros.

If one were to move their sight across the narrow sea, to the giant continent of Essos, the environment there was vastly different. Westeros was a land of relative peace with not much chance for commoners to rise above their station in life. If I could sum up some parts of Essos in one word, it would be chaos. Status, tradition, and bloodlines were still important there, but strength was also included. If one had the ability, they could rise up. War was a constant facet of their life, such that many mercenary companies there were easily created and easily destroyed. Territory exchanged hands frequently, and the Dothraki hordes occasionally came around to make a mess of things like a natural disaster. Power rose and fell like water. This chaos was especially different when in comparison to Westeros.

In a sense, that was good for me. I already had more power than I ever wanted, and it was as stable as could be. Why did I think this power was a hassle? It was because of the responsibility that I felt was included with it. I had come from a different world so I had a different set of morals that I couldn't easily ignore, even if I wanted to. That was what got me into all those messes when I was in the Service club. It was what was restraining me now, in a sense. I wasn't going to abuse my power, to do something like make a crazy harem. I had thought about it; it would not be a hard thing to do with the amount of power and money I had. I could easily reproduce those scenes that I had seen in the countless doujins hidden in my old room in my previous life. It would be all too easy to do that, to change those people's lives and bend them to my will. All too easy.

And if someone did that to Komachi, I would kill them. Plain and simple, with no hesitation.

No, I would torture them and flay them. I would keep them alive while I give them a death by a thousand cuts.

If I was a righteous or virtuous person, I would stop there, but I wasn't. I wasn't a hero. If such a situation came about, I wasn't sure how I would react or if I could even restrain myself. I had a sneaking suspicion that I would kill their entire family too. It was a repulsive thought, but it was a clear possibility that I couldn't deny, especially if I was angry enough. Maybe I would torture them too. From the elderly to the youngest infant. The thought scared me, but nevertheless, I couldn't deny the possibility. I was only human. If I didn't have power, would that have stopped me? Probably not. I would probably have died trying.

I imagined that they would feel the same if I did that to someone else. Could I inflict that misery on someone?

Hah. Grim. My thoughts were becoming too grim.

In that sense, it was all Zaimokuza's fault. Ever since that overweight otaku ladened me with the role of protagonist—no, even before then. Just the fact that I was the firstborn son of a great house had put a great deal more responsibility on my shoulders than I ever wanted. It would have been good if I was the second or third son. Even better if I was born to a minor house. No real responsibilities besides freeloading.

I shook my head to clear my head.

I had been spending too much time thinking about things, things that I didn't need to before.

The clink of the doorknob being slowly turned attracted my attention. I quietly placed my hand under my pillow and unsheathed the dagger hidden there. I thought about rolling off and hiding under the bed, but it was too late to move, not without making a sound that would be heard by someone that was in the midst of opening the door. Hiding the dagger under my blanket, I watched and waited, trusting in the darkness to cover the fact that I was awake with my eyes slightly opened. The door slowly swung open with only a slight creak.

In the darkness of the room, my eyes had adjusted enough that I could make out the outline of the person and the general style of the clothes, but that was enough. I waited until the door was quietly shut.

"Cersei, what are you doing here?" She jumped slightly at my voice.

"Ha-Hachi, you're awake…"

"Sneaking into my room isn't very lady-like," I said lightly. It was too hard to see her expression in the dark, but I could imagine her face squinting in annoyance. "Really, Cersei, is something the matter?"

"I…couldn't sleep."

I nodded my head idly and pulled open the blanket. "Okay, hop in."

"You're okay with that…?"

"Did you really think I'd say no?"

"Well, no…"

"Then hurry up. It's getting cold." I flapped my blanket again, emphasizing the open space.

Cersei slowly and timidly made her way over. I didn't say anything as she crawled onto the bed and got under the blanket.

I thought it was pretty warm under the blanket, but she was shivering slightly so I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. I couldn't really see anything her well in the darkness, but she was probably grateful since she didn't say anything against it. At least, she stopped shivering.

Just like that, I quickly fell asleep.

~o~

A/N: And that is enough uplifting talk. Time skip coming up. Well, seventy percent sure unless some idea pops in my head.


	9. Chapter 8: Prince (276 AC)

Chapter 8: Prince (276 AC)

~o~

Ten years had passed since I came into this world as a much too knowledgeable, blurry-eyed baby that felt that call of sleep far too often. I had to admit, it was a period that I wasn't too fond of remembering, as it consisted of snapping my mouth at any approaching blurry object like a snapping turtle, be them food or fingers. The only positive that I got from my state of awareness was being able to differentiate my cries, enough that the nursing maid was able to recognize the difference after awhile and respond accordingly. Of course, I could have had a better time if I wasn't placed in the same crib as Jamie and Cersei who kept crying off and on at all times of the day and night, waking me up and annoying me to tears. Like I said, it was a trying time.

Not much happened during the year. Jamie became able to read enough that he no longer needed my help, but since then, he has taken to avoiding books unless I forced them on him. I had to admit that I understood his feeling, since most of the fiction was bad though he didn't have quite the references that I had. Maybe I had spoiled him too much with my stories. In any case, he used that newfound time to focus more on his swordsmanship practice. I had to admit that he had gotten to the point where I couldn't beat him anymore, even with dirty tactics. Or maybe he just got used to it. Cersei, on the other hand, was keeping up with him, even though she was still falling behind. I gave her some advice to focus on parrying and countering, but it didn't seem like she listened to me. Well, that was typical of younger sisters; I would know from experience.

So where was I leading up to with this overly compressed status update?

Nowhere, really.

Even when me and my siblings' nameday passed, nothing much changed. However, the birth of a prince was something that the entirety of Westeros had to celebrate. Or at least pretend to.

Prince Viserys had been born to the royal line, and Tywin, in all his wisdom, decided to host a tournament in honor of Prince Viserys. So that meant that the king and his family were scheduled to appear at Lannisport where the Tourny was to be held. That scheduled time was already here.

Which led to my current situation of sitting right next to Prince Rhaegar at the dining table in the great hall of the Lannister castle. We were probably seated next to each other because they thought were would get along well since we were both heirs of the future generations. Of course, that didn't happen. In fact, we hadn't said much of anything to each other at all. Maybe an errant comment here and there.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but he was talking to the person seated next to him. The thought did come to me to initiate a conversation. However! I wasn't that kind of person.

In Japan, a loner was a stereotype that was common enough that it was its own cliche, and for good reason. I would even say that it was built into my genetic memory, if it weren't for the fact that Komachi had been born to the same bloodline. I still have the inclination even though I was in a new body that was obviously not of Japanese descent. I had to admit that I lost some of that, growing up in Westeros, but it was still there. If they talked to me, I would respond, of course. That was the same back into the service club. In fact, most of the situations back then was just me trying to solve the problematic situations they kept throwing at me. If I had never been forced into the service club, I would have probably gone through my entire high school years without making any kind of wave, big or small. Maybe I would have preferred that. Of course, that didn't happen. It did give me experience with socialites.

Unfortunately, it didn't give solutions to dealing with socialites. Haruno and Iroha weren't people I could deal with, and the Targaryen prince was giving me the same kind of vibe.

Perhaps hearing what I was thinking, Rhaegar turned his head in my direction. I quickly averted my eyes and scooped another mouthful of soup into my mouth. However, he didn't say anything and simply stared at me. I could feel myself getting agitated the more he watched me, with his perfect purple eyes on his perfectly handsome face with his perfect silver haired styled perfectly.

This freakin' riajuu!

I chewed on my food viciously as my anxiety started increasing, but it was only when I swallowed my food that he finally began to speak.

"I'd heard that you love books."

At first, I didn't realize that Rhaegar had spoken to me. When people talked in my direction, my natural assumption was that they were talking to someone past me. The way to deal with this was to wait a moment or two, long enough that I would be see if his eyes move from me or hear if any response comes from the other direction. The results of my meticulous and time-tested method was that he was speaking to me.

I had heard his voice before, when he was speaking to other people, but it was only when he spoke to me that I could feel the charm that practically radiated off of it. It was a melodious sound, seeming in harmony with its tone and volume, such that the sentence that flowed from him had a musical quality. For most women, it was the type of voice that would have had a seductive quality. For me, it made a trail of goosebumps pop up on my arms. So I decided on the best course of action, considering the situation and our statuses.

"Yes."

After a few moments for me to elaborate, in which I continued to eat my soup, he began to seem perplexed and asked me another question. I answered with another one word response that probably left him feeling unsatisfied. Well, good. That was what I was aiming for. I was polite enough while answering, as per my Japanese heritage, but he shouldn't expect more than that!

As if not willing to admit to defeat, Rhaegar continued with several more attempts, none of which were successful at all at opening me up. At the end of the table, I could see Tywin's face scrunch up in anger, though he held in most of it so that it wasn't too apparently to anyone that didn't know him. I, of course, did know him, so I knew right away that I was going to be in trouble later, but I didn't really care. Instead, what was pissing me off was the damn riajuu chattering next to my ear.

Go ahead, Prince, keep trying. I would like to see how long you would last.

~o~

I seriously underestimate his tenacity. Rhaegar was right next to me, walking in the hallway. It should have been obvious from my disgruntled expression, but he kept up his one-man dialog in which he asked and answered his own questions without missing a beat. Any one of the nobles or servants that saw us knew that I was incredibly annoyed, but seeing how the pest was a prince, they couldn't do anything about it. This included me as well.

"I had heard that you are military-minded, is that true? Is it? So it is. I'm of a similar—"

"Shut up, you riajuu bastard!"

Even I had my limits.

The outburst left my lips before I could retract it. My eyes were swirling, but since I made the move, I could only go all-in. What could he do? He was only the heir to the seven kingdoms, but I was a heir too and of the richest kingdom, the Westerlands. Even if he wanted to do something like imprison me or punish me, he wouldn't have the power to do that, especially since I didn't really do that much except call him a bastard. At the most, people would—

A hand clamped down on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw narrowed eyes and a extremely wide grin, like that of a snake, staring down at me. All of my thoughts fled me.

"Riajuu? Even though I don't know what that means, I do know what 'bastard' means."

I straightened my face and gritted my teeth. I understood his implication. "What do you want?"

His grin seemed to stretch even wider. "Well, I heard you made a wargame."

I knew where this was going. It must have been Jamie who blabbed because I knew Cersei could actually keep a secret. Then again, Cersei was infatuated with him just from looking at drawn pictures and hearing the bards' stories. She looked like she was going to faint when she saw him in person. That kind of pissed me off now that I think about it. "I don't mind, but that's only if you can complete a challenge for me."

He started to frown.

"Don't worry, it's nothing that'll affect your reputation. It's just a game between you and me," I said. "More of a mental and luck-based game."

I could see the indecision on his face so I went for the killing stroke.

"Trust me, it'll be fun."

~o~

Of course, it was fun. For me.

Across the table, under the flickering light of the candle, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, heir the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, was furiously staring down at the numerous parchments that littered his side of the table. All of them were his character sheets, detailing their appearance, their statistics, and their inventory. They were also all dead.

"I don't have all night. Make another character or give up," I said as I pretended to yawn.

He sent a bloodshot glare my way. "This campaign of yours is impossible."

"Of course it's possible. Just give up, and I'll show you how Jaime and Cersei did it with beginner characters." I stretched my back. We had been at this for hours already. "If you don't think it's easy after I show you, I'll even void the challenge, and we can do a different one."

That seemed to lit a fire in him as he took out a new parchment and started writing out a new character. I took this opportunity to close my eyes for a bit to rest.

Rhaegar had grasped the rules easily enough, far faster than my siblings, making his first character in a matter of minutes instead of taking hours. I had even been so kind to take him on a quick practice campaign to show him the ropes, and he took to it like a fish in a pond. He even seemed to be in love with the concept. You could tell a lot about a person with what kind of character they make for their first time. It was usually their ideal type or the kind they were familiar with. As it was, he made a knight who was a complete paragon of virtue. Of course, I had some information on him before, but what I knew was public knowledge and prone to deviation and exaggeration. However, with this newfound information, I created a completely new campaign on the spot, designed to be beaten by low level characters but also designed for him to never succeed at.

Of course, it went without saying that Jaime and Cersei had never played this before. If he called me up on my bluff, I would just fudge my way through. Not that he would ever know. The papers that he saw me reading throughout the whole campaign as if I was taking it straight from the pages were for a completely different campaign.

"I'm…I'm done." His eyes were almost to the point of being bloodied as he handed over his character sheet. I raised my eyebrow when I saw what he wrote.

"Are you sure about this?" In response to my question, he stared at me with his bloodshot eyes. I shrugged. "Alright, if you're sure."

I glanced down at the character sheet again. This character was the completely opposite of what he made before. Instead of a paragon of light, this character was an scheming scoundrel of a knight, keeping murderers and back-alley robbers as his company. Instead of dumping his points into strength and endurance, he put it all in charisma and agility.

Well, it could probably get past the first part, but after it made it to the part of the campaign I haven't made yet, I would adapt and create enough to stomp this character out of existence.

~o~

The first rays of sunlight dawned on the window sill, but I was of no mind to pay attention. I could barely keep my eyes opened, yet I had to at this critical juncture. Across from me, somehow keeping awake and oddly energetic despite having sunken eyes, Prince Rhaegar was rolling the two dice once more.

Somehow, against all odds, his character, Rozlin, was able to convince a lord and his entire army through speeches and luck of the rolls to lay siege to the underground tombs while he snuck in and confronted the last boss, the undead king of the underground tombs.

The dice clinked against the table, rolling forward until it finally stopped at the middle. A natural 12.

"The…the king," I said, withholding my grimace and resignation, "takes your words in stride for a moment before he raises his dagger and impales his own chest with it. The blade digs into his heart and its magic renders the organ into ash. The king stares at you with a thankful expression, as if enlightened, before crumbling into dust."

I did all that I could do. Everything that could have been done to kill his character without reaching too far that I would be caught cheating had been implemented, but he had managed to beat it against all odds. I was in awe. I truly was. I smiled bitterly.

"After gathering all of the loot, the moment you step out of the tombs, you see the army before you celebrate with a loud cheer. Despite everything arrayed against you, you have beaten them, and your deeds are known. What awaits you after you return is both fame and fortune."

Prince Rhaegar was silent as he smiled brightly for a moment before his head slammed into the table, unconscious before his forehead hit the die.

~o~

"I have to admit, Hachi, that I haven't had as much fun in a long time as I did last night."

"We're not that close for you to address me without any honorifics!"

That statement was on purpose, wasn't it? I could see the maids that were walking passed in the hall pause, hesitating for one moment too long, before they hurriedly continued on their way. I could imagine what was going through their mind and the gossip that would come of it, but I was in no mood to care. And even if I was, I wasn't going to play into his hands like that.

Taking a glance at Rhaegar who was walking by my side, I looked squarely at the die imprint on his forehead, depicting the six-side with its six dots. I snickered, and I knew he noticed my glance, but he walked on proudly without the slightest bit of embarrassment. Honestly, that was the only joy I was getting from walking besides him.

Why should I be happy walking next to him? Popularity? That was just an abstract concept based around appearance and personality that attracted flies that endlessly buzz around you. Take for instance our most exalted riajuu idiot, Hayato Hayama. Because of his stupidly handsome face and general leniency, he had to deal with the likes of pests such as Kakeru Tobe. What was the point was you would attract cockroaches like that? I would rather be a loner than deal with that, a decision that I proudly undertook in my previous life even though, back then, I had an above average appearance and above average grades.

Though, in this life, I had to admit that I was, in fact, despite all appearances, popular. What exactly was popularity? It was the combination of several criteria to achieve a score that must pass a baseline in order to be categorized as popular. That would be appearance, personality, achievement, and wealth. For these reasons, it was no wonder that I wasn't popular in my last life, not that I really cared about it now or then.

Now for the hidden fifth criteria that doesn't actually exist in reality. That is connection. It is a temporary, made-up criteria that too many idiots of the world flock to. It is the popularity of association. Like the flunkies of a celebrity gaining a bit of temporary popularity from it and managing it to somehow use it for some small and weak gains. Tobe is exactly that type of person, believing that just by being next to Hayato, he would become as popular as Hayato, not realizing that it is entirely superficial and that it will evaporate the moment Hayato left.

Thus, being with a prince had no benefits. Not that I needed nor wanted to be popular. I was already popular in my own right, mostly because of the last category: wealth. As the heir to the Lannister family, I was pretty much entitled to the massive amount of wealth that the family had, even if my relatively frugal nature from my past life prevented me from becoming a complete wastrel. That meant that even if I were to have my face mashed up by a grinder, I would still have half the Westerlands coming to me for marriage just to get at my wealth. Of course, my current arranged marriage did a lot to stop those proposals, though Tywin did tell me that I would get offers of mistresses in a few years. He did warn me to only take a few at most, but even if he didn't, I already knew of the dangers.

The wisdom of movies and anime have already made known to me that mistresses weren't inherently dangerous. It was mistresses with children who were the most danger to a noble house, from either themselves or their children. Whether it was from being oppressed or being greedy, the results were often gruesome internal conflicts. I have read too many yandere webnovels to make that kind of mistake.

In any case, we had arrived. In front of us was a nondescript wooden door, just like any other in the castle. However, this was a very special room, one that I had found years ago when Jamie ambushed me in order to teach him. Since then, I had converted it from the plain, empty room that it was to something much more different.

I unlocked the door with my key and walked into the room. There was a large table in the center, one that took up most of the room. On it was a huge map of Westeros, one that had to be custom-made to be this size. There were leftovers from a previous session littering the map: wooden castles and tiny statuettes that depicted individuals and armies.

Rhaegar was staring at it with intense interest. I already knew that it would catch his attention, and I didn't mind. Instead of paying attention to that, I walked over to the bookshelf against the far wall and took a slim stack of parchment, held together by tied strings through three holes on the left side. This was actually my simplified quick-play rulebook, the one that I usually played with Cersei and Jamie. There was a stack of parchment as big as a tome that I created, the realistic and complete rulebook, that had statistics down as accurately as I could get it along with rules on almost everything, making it a complex mess with a huge learning curve. However, it was the result of years of research and beta testing with Tywin, such that it was the closest to actual real-world strategy. Nobody would even doubt me if I said this was my magnum opus, though I didn't consider it be something like that. To me, it was a hobby. I held up the quickplay rulebook for him to see.

"Here are the rules. You have to learn them first before we can play."

His eyes began to shine.

~o~

The game was afoot.

I glanced across the table at Rhaegar, his hands pressed down at the edge of the map. This was only the third game we have played, with the first one being practice for him to become used to the rules. He caught on quickly, so the second game was more on equal footing. Still, he had lost then, and he was losing badly now. On the map, I had taken the whole of the southern domains as well as the Westerlands and the Crownland. The only major strongholds that he had left were in the snowy north, where both food and population were scarce. It was only a matter of time before my victory was declared, and that was a fact that he knew all too well.

Which was why he was using desperate tactics now.

"You can't be serious," I said. There was a bit of worry that he would actually succeed, but I hid that well enough to only allow fake concern to show. "They'll never accept it."

"Your armies have taken over most of the fertile land. You know well that this may be my last chance, Hachi." Somehow, during the middle of our games, we started calling each other by our first names instead of through our titles. I couldn't exactly remember when, but I supposed we were familiar enough with each other, especially after the all-night gaming session. Rhaegar moved a statuette of a merchant from Winterfell to the north and through The Wall, letting it stop in the desolate wasteland Beyond the Wall.

Bad move, Prince. The thought didn't appear on my face though. There was many moves that he could have taken, especially in this endgame scenario, but he sent a merchant instead of someone that would look less like prey to the barbarian tribes of the icy wasteland. That was going to incur some heavy penalties. However, he had no notion of this, if the expression on his face was anything to go by.

"He advances into the wasteland with a caravan of guards." I motioned for him to roll the dice, and after a moment, he did so. They fell onto the table, landing on the four and the five.

"You are ambushed by a group of five wearing furred coats and wielding make-shift spears of wood and stone. They don't hesitate to launch themselves bodily at your troops. What do you do?"

"I have my knights and men-at-arms disarm the men without harming them." I motioned, and he rolled.

"Your knights beats them handily, though a few were too enthusiastic, killing two of the wildlings. The remaining three are churned into a fury, struggling to escape captivity."

"This won't do." Rhaegar sighed. "Since some have died, there is no point in keeping to rest alive to negotiate. Torture the location of their village out of the remaining three."

"Torture? Really?" At his nod, I shrugged and rolled the dice on my side of the table for him. "One kills himself by biting off his tongue. The other two last for roughly thirty minutes, but they are now bloodied. You learn that their village is close by, probably within half a day's walk and that is accounting for the snow impeding your journey."

Rhaegar nodded. "I have my men kill them and bury them, leaving no evidence behind. After that is done, we head out in the direction of the village."

"Cold," I muttered, and I wasn't referring to the weather of the wasteland. I rolled the dice. "There is no further encounters. By the time the sun dips, you see an encampment consisting of tents. There are many people walking around the encampment. Men, women, children. What do you do?"

"I, as the merchant, motion my men to stand back while I alone approach them slowly with my hands raised to show that I am unarmed."

"Upon noticing you, the men and women, sans the children, charges at you with their weapons raised."

"I shout that I come to negotiate with them."

"They are still charging at you," I said. "Your knights are agitated, ready to charge to your rescue."

"I keep calm and motion to my men that everything is alright. I wait for the wildlings to reach me."

"Upon arriving, they grab you, shove you to the floor, and cut off your head."

"What?!" Rhaegar looked up incredulously at me. "I did not roll!"

"You had enough penalties that it would still put you in the negative no matter your roll," I said. "You were an unarmed chubby man in a luxuriously looking fur coat. What did you think would happen? This isn't civilized land."

Rhaegar gritted his teeth. "My knights charge in and kill any who resists."

"Roll." At my word, Rhaegar rolled the dice. "Good roll. You massacre everyone in the village down to the last man, woman, and children, leaving only infants and toddlers alive."

He slammed a hand on the table. "I said only those who resists."

"They resisted. Even the children with small knives," I said exasperatedly. "It's like you don't know about wildlings."

"And you do?"

"Far more than you, apparently." Rhaegar looked like he was about to retort for a moment before he thought better of it. Instead, he seemed to deflate a little. I gave him a little nod, as if in recognition of his efforts, though it was my way of subtly mocking him.

"I'm just surprised by your level of knowledge about the wildlings."

"Time, money, and research." Actually, the real reason was Zaimokuza.

"I applaud your efforts," Rhaegar said without a hint of sarcasm. I had expected some, so I was a bit surprised. "Not many have the wisdom or the foresight to acknowledge those whom exist outside the Seven Kingdoms."

I couldn't hold back the narrowing of my eyes. This felt more than a bit suspicious. Well, it wasn't exactly suspicion—I wasn't quite sure what it was—but I started speaking cautiously. "I'm sure you'd know as much as I do if you put more effort into it."

"Maybe," Rhaegar said, displaying a mischievous smile.

"In any case, I advance my host up the Neck."

"The snowy north is not so easy to penetrate. I will split my armies and move them here, here, and here." He pushed several statuettes and moved them into forest and mountainous terrain. The most important thing was that he had scattered them. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be bringing them all into a single battle. If I didn't know better, I would think that he was starting to use guerrilla tactics. "I don't think your scouts will be able to detect all of them."

"You're going for a battle of attrition." Finding them all would take far too much time, but if I left them alone and charged on ahead, they would regroup and cut off my supply line. Being in the winter-like area which had little in food or shelter would be a death sentence in that kind of situation. "You're stalling for time."

"As long as I have time, the wildlings will eventually come under my sway."

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"The North is self-sufficient. My people and armies can last for a long time, but can yours?"

"You're really getting into the role, aren't you?"

"That…was not my intent…" Rhaegar seemed to become somewhat disturbed and fell into a contemplating silence. That suited me just fine because I got more time to think on my move.

Invading the North was akin to invading Russia, and that had proven disastrous for Germany. I didn't think that I would be any luckier in that regards. Even if I could wipe them out, it would incur terrible casualties that would make its worth questionable. No, there was another way, one that most wouldn't choose to do.

"I will have my fleet in the western sea head to Bear Island while I will have the fleet in the eastern sea go to the Eastwatch." I began to move my ships across the map.

Rhaegar blinked in surprise. "If you are trying to flank from behind, why would you move them so far north?"

"While my main host is fighting your knights at the Neck, you will not be able get many of your knights to return to the north." At my words, Rhaegar slowly nodded as it dawned on him.

"Are you planning to siege Winterfell directly?"

"No," I said. "They'll move across the land in smaller groups, raiding and pillaging every village they come across."

"What?!" Rhaegar looked at me with a shocked expression.

"They'll steal as much food as they can carry and burn all the fields." From the shelf that had spare figurines, I took a few and placed them in places above Winterfell. "By the time you can react, it'll be too late. The farms will be in ruins, and even the nearby villages will become abandoned as the citizens flee southward in fear of being raided. The North will starve."

Rhaegar's face hardened. "Even if this is a game, there's no need to be so merciless."

"This is war." I stared back at him coldly. "Can there be a real victory without staining your hands?"

"It's a worthless victory when you lose the heart of the people!"

"The North will hate me regardless. You are the heart of the North, but there can only be one king on the iron throne."

Rhaegar was silent. It was probably the first time he really encountered such a tactic. It was a despicable one in the sense of someone from Westeros, but for me, it was a tactic that was used often in modern gaming. In strategy games, one of the primary targets were the resource collectors to destroy the enemy commander's economy and prevent them from building more troops. It was a tactic used to great effect in real time strategy games where there were defenseless units that were used to harvest resources.

"It's your move."

He was still silent, his gaze moving about the map, as if looking for a way out. Finally, he sighed. "I surrender."

"I applaud your efforts and summarily execute you. Well, it looks like I won this match." I stretched my back. "You'll keep your end of the bet?"

"I wouldn't break my word so easily. I'll watch over your sister for the next couple of days."

Looks like my efforts paid off. The rest was up to Cersei.

"But I'm curious," he began. "What will you do with Westeros under your rule?"

"Reforms, industries, academics. There's a bunch to do, except for the North. I'll have to cripple them," I said. "Whether I like it or not, the North will eventually rebel in the future. After I conquer the territory, I'll rip out their infrastructure and make them reliant on the south. If they actually decide to rebel, they won't be able to get very far. Not without help, at least."

"You can't be serious…"

"Why not? If they actually get help to start a rebellion, that'll expose their benefactor, and I can wipe out the rats in one fell swoop." I looked down at the various castles and forts that littered the North. "And if it comes down to it, I'll just execute all the noble houses and replace them with loyal knights I'll personally raise to minor nobility. They won't be able to manage the territory that well, but it's better than watching over my shoulder constantly."

"This is..." Rhaegar trailed off as his expression distorted. "I'll never approve of these methods."

"That's why you'll never win against me."

~o~

A/N: Hohohoho. Heheheheh. Kukukukuku. Hahahahaha. Kakakakaka.


	10. Chapter 9: Theatrics

Chapter 9: Theatrics

~o~

"That's why you'll never win against me."

With those words, I had planted the grief seed into his heart.

Rhaegar challenged me again and again to matches for the rest of the day, but he became more and more reckless as his losses built up. What he could easily avoid in his first few games, he was falling for in his last few. He stopped improving and started deteriorating. I could see the frustration building in his heart as well as the intense desire to defeat me, to prove my words wrong. However, with each subsequent loss, those words became embedded deeper into his soul, blackening it. Without a victory to transfer his grief into, it became almost visible how he was turning from a magical girl into a witch.

Just needed a wish granting cat—Kyubey—and he would be set.

In the subsequent games, in order to keep me playing since I was a bit tired, he upped the stakes on the bets. In the end, I had gained quite a bit in favors and resources that would be delivered at a later date.

At the moment, the prince was stuck babysitting my little sister. Not for the two days that was originally planned in the first bet, but for the whole week before the tournament. He also had to teach Jamie swordsmanship. All in all, I had gained a lot, though I bet his view of me had dropped in light of the tactics I used to win my games. War was a dirty affair, but he couldn't quite seem to grasp that concept, believing it to be a more chivalrous affair. He almost discounted the roles that lower-class people played, the strength that his men-at-arms brought and the supplies that his peasants created. That was his major failing, though he was starting to get better at it at the end.

His actions were slowly changing from a paragon to a scoundrel's. I supposed, in the face of a massive wall, he had to adapt or fail. In the face of an unsurmountable obstacle, being able to keep one's conviction in spite of its constant failings wasn't hard; it just needed a burst of courage to die with it intact. However, when death was not the end, the failings would become clear and more pronounced. It would be harder to keep fooling himself into keeping mental and social constructs that were proven to be ineffective. Eventually, it would take a superhuman feat just to keep that conviction in the face of continuous failure.

If a runner in track and field could rewind time back to the morning of a race he couldn't win, how many loops would it take for him to win? What if he still couldn't? How long until he started to try something different, to seek an alternative path? Maybe a new running style or a different type of training. How many failures would it take before he started to think that he just wanted to win one time? Only one single time to justify all the failures so far. An innocent wish. How long would it take before that runner started to compromise and take underhanded methods? Maybe sabotage an opponent's shoe lace? When does it become a nail in a shoe?

Would he still be the same person he was when he first started the loop?

The answer is…no.

It was human nature to change and adapt. To do otherwise was simply repetition. That, in itself, was unnatural, a type of insanity.

My conclusion? Hayato was insane.

Rhaegar reminded me somewhat of Hayato, trying to strive to a perfect ending for everyone in spite of everything. In spite of his failures and in spite of his feelings. Unlike Hayato, he was starting to see the flaws of that. I would like to think that he was starting to see the flaws of everything around him. For a perfect ending, something had to be sacrificed.

What did that mean for him?

He could be influenced.

One day while I was walking with Rhaegar, I said to him: "Why are you still bothering me? Aren't you supposed to be training?"

Rhaegar smiled. "There is a tournament every so often, and while it is an exciting affair, it is rarer to talk to someone with an outlook such as yours."

"Well, since you can practice with the Kingsguard anytime you want, I guess it wouldn't be that much of a big deal." Left unstated was that the Kingsguard was slated to be the top fighters of the tournament anyways. "But what do you mean by an outlook like mine?"

"You have a strange way of looking at the world. Viewing it from an angle where the skies and mountains are different."

"You want a different perspective? Okay, how about this. Beauty is prized, right?"

Rhaegar nodded.

"In the lower classes, it can be a source of tragedy."

"Lower classes? You mean the smallfolk?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

"What do you mean by tragedy?"

"Just ask one of your men-at-arms. They'll tell you if you push them enough." And just like that, I planted a seed.

Powerful houses didn't need to commit atrocities; what they wanted, they often got in ample supply. It was the minor houses and branch houses where most of the crimes against the lower classes occurred. Even if I got into a position of power, clamping down on such things would be exceedingly difficult since I would have to fight not just against people but also against tradition. These rules—and lack of rules—had existed for generations. So I decided to plant some seeds into this impressionable prince. If I told him outright, the impact would be negligible, but if he found out for himself, it would have much more of an effect. Best thing of all, it didn't involve me doing anything other than planting the idea; if he decided to do anything about it, there would be almost no connection to me.

I felt like a farmer, planting some seeds into his head every now and then. The important thing was that he viewed me as peer rather than a subordinate. That was important. If this was before the war games, he probably would have dismissed my talks as idle chatter, but since he came around often enough to talk about various subjects, I knew that he would appreciate my "strange" viewpoint on things.

Of course, not everything was going well on certain fronts.

During the week, Cersei became more and more infatuated with the prince. It wasn't that bad at first—heavy blushing not withstanding, but the point where it probably peaked was when Rhaegar played the harp on that one night. After that, she had become almost intolerable. All she talked about was Prince Rhaegar this, Prince Rhaegar that, such that even Jamie couldn't stand her and that was saying a lot.

As for my twin brother, his competitive spirit had ignited in the sparring matches with Rhaegar, such that he constantly asked for rematches. Of course, Cersei was part of the audience. She was practically attached to the prince by the hip, even waiting patiently outside the privy when he let loose the dragon in there. It got to a weird and obsessive point, even though Rhaegar didn't seem to mind.

The day of the tournament came. Somehow, Cersei had extracted a promise from Rhaegar to name her the queen of love and beauty if he won. I was pretty sure that he only promised her that to appease her; my sister could be very stubborn with the things she wanted. However, she never got a chance for it. Rhaegar got far in the tournament, much further than I thought he would, but in the end, he lost to Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard.

I was seated in the the chairs under a fancy canopy along with the rest of my family except for Tywin. He had gone over to where the King Aerys II Targaryen was sitting. The main event of the tournament was jousting matches. Basically, they rode horses down two opposite lanes, using their lances to knock each other off. However, the lanes were aligned so that you had to aim diagonally across your chest hit the opponent. My only guess for why would be that it reduced the power of the charge so it wouldn't be as deadly. If they aimed straight ahead or slightly right instead of their current diagonal left over the horse's head, their killing power would be increased immensely. Jousting was too impractical for real world skill evaluation. Not to mention that watching horse riders attempting to knock each other off with lances got old fast.

There were other events too like the general melee, but the knights participating in that event weren't participating in the joust. As such, with the joust being the central event, most of the top knights were jousting. Therefore, the people who were left for the other events were typically those trying to make a name for themselves. It was certainly interesting, but not as interesting as it could have been.

When the tournament finally ended, I was just about ready to go home. Actually, I was ready halfway through the joust, but that certainly wouldn't have reflected well on Lannister name. It was at this point that I noticed Tywin walking back towards us, but the angry scowl on his features told me that something was wrong. Not that he didn't have a scowl on often enough, but I could tell this was a bit more serious.

"Father—"

"We're leaving," Tywin said briskly as he strode passed us without stopping.

"Jamie, Cersei," I beckoned as I rose from my seat.

"But Prince Rhaegar…"

"Not now, Cersei. There'll time to talk with him later. Bring Jamie and come."

~o~

The proposal had been rejected. It had already been previously decided that the Targaryens would be staying a week longer, after the end of the tournament, but things between the families had become strained. I suppose that it had become a sort of breaking point because Tywin decided to confide certain things to me. I had to admit, that decision in and of itself was strange. Tywin had always been a private man, keeping his thoughts under lock and key. This wasn't even mentioning the fact that I was only ten years old. Yet, in spite of all this, he confided in me and asked for my opinions.

And I gave them.

An alliance with the Targaryens at this point was out of the question.

"What do you suggest, Hachi?" Tywin asked as he sat stiffly in his seat, at the head of the table. Despite there being numerous seats in the war council room, I was the only one here besides him so I sat at a nearby seat on the side. Still, the words that he had told me were heavy.

It was one thing to reject a proposal, but it was a complete other matter to insult the other party while at it.

The words were: "You are my most able servant, Tywin, but a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter."

I was adept with masks, but Tywin's was a hard one even after all these years. He had a quiet fury about him, layered in anger and resent, yet there was something else. Maybe it was his tensed jawline, but it felt like an anger that had been simmering for awhile.

"How long has this been going on?"

He stayed quiet with his fury, but that silence was telling. It was a practiced one.

"So a long time," I mused.

What could I advise him? I knew that this was the crossroads, the point where the future would be decided. If this was a visual novel, I would get a three choice selection. As it was, I was left with only one; the other two choices would only lead to a harder situation.

"From what you told me, he doesn't consider our families to be equal in any regards. Put together his paranoia, any agreement with him would be tenuous at best," I slowly said as I thought about the situation. "Worse is that he's deteriorating." At this point, only a psychologist could save him. Of course, that profession didn't exist in the Seven Kingdoms.

Tywin waited patiently, his stern expression not changing in the slightest. After a couple of minutes, I let out a sigh.

"It's time to pull things back. Resign from being the Hand of the King."

"Reason?" Tywin didn't rebuke it immediately, instead allowing me a chance to convince him. It was only now that I realized how much he valued my opinion because I knew that he wouldn't have put Jamie and Cersei's opinion in his mind at all.

"He is too far gone—er, I mean that he is losing his mind. The longer you stick with him, the more he'll view you as his enemy," I said. "If he still has any sensibility left, he'll come begging you to come back, but I still don't think you should agree even if that happens. This situation will probably just repeat if you do."

"I'll lose much of my power and influence."

"We have plenty of that already," I responded. "Most of that was superficial anyways. What can't be solved with a sack of gold or the reputation of House Lannister? It's best to cut ties before it's too late."

"I'll think on this." By that, I knew that he was actually going to take it up with the family council before making his final decision.

Except he didn't. He didn't speak one word of it to anyone. Not to Uncle Kevan nor to Aunt Genna.

A few hours later, he took up his decision with the king, sending the entire castle into an uproar.

~o~

King Aerys II Targaryen rejected Tywin's resignation. However, those had been words without weight. Tywin had left the symbol of the Hand, the necklace of linked hands, on the floor of the main hall, where it still sat untouched and guarded by a Kingsguard. Besides spewing insults and threats, there was little the king could do. He could try to imprison Tywin or raise an army to siege Casterly Rock, but both options would mean war. This wasn't an upstart village that he could bully around; if things came down to it, Tywin had ensured the loyalty and fear of all the vassal houses in the Westerlands, such that they wouldn't hesitate to raise their arms even against the crown if necessary. Even if we didn't have any Great Houses helping us out, our gold was good enough to hire mercenaries, here and from across the Narrow Sea. If it came down to a war, Westeros would burn.

Of course, if that was all there was, then war was still a very real possibility. However, I was here, and Rhaegar knew that. My ideas were much more scary than just a straight-forward war.

Well, I wasn't sure if I would be able to implement those ideas, if it came down to it. In a game, sure, but real life was altogether a different matter. Still, the threat of it would move him.

And it did.

It took a few days, but he finally came to visit me.

I allowed him entry into my room and allowed him to take a seat. Just taking a glance at his ikeman appearance—though grimmer and more sallow—after all this time did not decrease how much it annoyed me. Even that sickly complexion had a charm to it that would attract a certain set of ladies, though probably not what he would be looking for. After we had both got comfort and exchanged the standard pleasantries—well, more like he did while I nodded—we both got down to business.

"Convince your father to reconsider."

"How about no?" And that was that. Wait, no, it wasn't. Rhaegar instead looked much more annoyed than before.

"My father needs him."

"Your father wasted him," I said. "The Hand of the King is a thankless job, but your father threw that in his face. Insulted not just my father but our entire family as well, but you knew about that. Not just this time, but all the rest as well. Do you think we should just let that go?"

"There will be compensation."

"Look around you," I said with a wave of my arm. "This is the wealth of the Lannister house. What could you possibly offer that we don't already have?" Arrogant words. Words that I wasn't used to saying, but I needed to set the pace for this negotiation, even if it was against my nature.

Rhaegar didn't mince words. "What do you want?"

I didn't want to straight-forward say marry Cersei, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted that anymore. In the end, I just gave a vague reply.

"Dignity and respect."

"You have it."

"It needs to be in a tangible form."

"Just tell me what you want."

"I already told you," I replied exasperatedly. "If you don't understand, then just go already. I have nothing more to say on that."

Rhaegar was quiet for a moment. "There must be another way."

"The king could go on his knees and beg," I said sarcastically.

As if forcing himself—with a slight scowl on his face—he asked, "If I can convince my father to let me marry Cersei, will your father relent?"

"It'll go a long way," I simply said.

Rhaegar nodded his head and quickly left.

In the end, I never heard a word from him before he and his father left back to King's Landing.

When I came the main hall, I saw that they had taken the necklace of linked hands with them.

~o~

It only took a few weeks before we received a raven that the new Hand of the King was Lord Owen Merryweather. Tywin went into a cold fury for awhile, though that was a bit unreasonable if you asked me since he did resign himself. Thankfully, nobody asked me. Not that I would say anything even if someone did.

Cersei was in a depressive mood. Aunt Genna was doing most of the comforting with Jamie also by her side, doing his awkward best to distract her.

As for me, I was getting ready for my magic lesson. Honestly, I never thought that I would be looking forward to the day that I could study, but this was magic so it was the exception. It had to be. If not magic, what would even qualify as an exception?

Magic was the fantasy of everyone, young and old. It was such a desirable and fantastical thing that some people mistakenly studied occult books or kept their cherry until thirty to become a wizard. That was how powerful the concept of magic was to the modern world.

And I do mean magic by incantation and material usage, not the fire ability given by Zaimokuza.

While my flame powers would be considered magic, I considered it more like a psionic ability. It would ignite on command and every aspect of it was getting better with practice, but it didn't require materials or incantations like regular magic. It was more like an esper or superhero's ability. Therefore, it couldn't really qualify since I could do the practice for my fire abilities by myself, and there was no way she could teach me how to use it better than what I already knew from manga. I did ask, just in case though. The results were just as I expected.

Even as excited as I was, I waited patiently.

And waited.

And waited.

She never arrived.

~o~

In the end, I had to head to Lannisport myself to find out what was going on. Of course, I had to go with a sizable escort. As well as Cersei.

Why the last one? Aunt Genna insisted a trip might lighten Cersei's depressive mood. As her chaperone, I was to ensure that she at least smiled once on this trip. How I became her chaperone, despite being the same age, was a question that I wasn't going to ask.

The trip itself was made in silence. Cersei was lost in her own thoughts, and I wasn't good enough at comforting her to break through her daze. I tried. I really did. When we reached Lannisport, I disembarked, but Cersei stayed on the carriage. Because of that, I left half of the guards with her and went into town. Someone had been notified before my arrival because there was someone from a branch house who came to greet me.

"My lord, welcome back to Lannisport. I am Jeorge of House Lantell. As always, we're happy to be in your presence, but may I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?" A balding man with a circlet of hair on top of a chubby head and body with a particular pallor that indicated that he spent much of his time out of the sunlight. Even though he was chubby, you couldn't really say he had gotten fat from eating food excessively. In this world, there was no vitamins or any notion of daily nutrition. Keeping in shape was more difficult, especially if your job was more of the scholarly type.

"I'm looking for a priestess of R'hllor."

His eyes flickered. "That is…"

When he didn't continue, I asked, "Where is she?"

"This is a little hard for me to say, my lord."

I hardened my stare. "Where is she?"

"She's dead, my lord."

If I was strong enough, I would have probably grabbed his collar, Hayato-style. However, instead, I kept my calm and asked him for the details. For some reason, that actually made him more nervous, such that he was stuttering and mixing his words. I had learned before that, sometimes, the build-up was better than the climax. The anticipation of violence was more frightening than the violence itself.

By this time, I noticed that his awkward spewing was coming closer to the end, so it was time to reorganize it and summarize it. Basically, what happened was that a few days ago, a ship bringing a new batch of priests of R'hllor arrived at the port. Of course, this ship included the new batches of orders in magical textbooks as well as incantation material, some of it being very fragile. There were already priests and priestesses in town, led by Melisandre, and they were tolerated enough because of my orders, even though a fourth of the town had converted to the new religion. However, the new batch of R'hllor missionaries was the breaking point. Those that were faithful to the Seven became militant, gathering in a mob. In the end, two priests and one priestess were hung while the rest found shelter in the Lannister branch house before the mob could be dispersed by the Lannisport guards. Of course, that one priestess was Melisandre.

To say I was pissed was an understatement.

"The instigators?"

"I apologize, my lord, but we did not find who was responsible."

"And the corpses?" At his silence, I said, "Where are the bodies of the priests and priestess?"

"They are still hanging by the wharf, my lord."

"What?" I asked icily. "Why haven't they been taken down?"

"It was one of the conditions for the mob to disperse. They threatened to riot if they are taken down."

"You negotiated with them…?"

"My—My lord, you've to understand. Many of the skilled workers were a part of the mob. If too many of them are hurt, it would paralyze the economy of Lanisport."

"I see…" I closed my eyes for a moment. It was a good reason, though it did nothing to abate my anger. I took a deep breath before I opened my eyes. "Cut the bodies down on my authority. Any who dares challenge it directly challenges House Lannister. After you do that, bring the bodies to the branch house."

"As you wish, my lord." The chubby man bowed and quickly left to carry out my orders.

I turned to the guard next to me and said, "Go and have Cersei brought to the mansion of House Lantell. I want the men to be ready in case of retaliation from the smallfolk."

"They wouldn't dare raise their arms against my lord, but I shall follow your orders." He bowed slightly and left.

I looked at the rest of my guards. "As for the rest of you, follow. I wish to survey the city."

~o~

My presence, as I walked through the city, was quickly known and spread throughout. Any thoughts of rioting was put down from my appearance alone. I didn't even have to have guards with me and these people would still just give up. That was how powerful the influence House Lannister had on this city. Of course, I still needed guards in case of assassins.

By the time that I made my way to the mansion of House Lantell, the city had been pacified. During the walk, I saw different parts of the city including the slums. Prostitutes, thugs, and children living as street rats. I sympathized with them, but there wasn't much I could do for them. If I gave them money, it would win their love, but it would only feed them for a day. That was, of course, if they didn't get robbed or killed just for having that money. Well, with what I planned to implement, it should help lessen the slums, enough for new occupants to come. New occupants? What did I mean by that?

Well, when you raise people out of poverty, it doesn't get rid of the slum even if you take everyone of the slum dwellers out of there. Why? That was because the news would spread and immigrants would come to fill up the slums in the hopes they would receive the same luck and get out of poverty. That, however, was also a way to grow a city. If you couldn't make it big in a small town, then go to Tokyo to try your luck. That type of thinking was what I was aiming for. As it was now, they simply went to King's Landing or Oldtown.

I had already implemented a number of changes throughout the years to smaller towns and villages, but I would need Tywin's direct approval to do something about Lannisport. Considering that it was the main trade port of the Westerland, I had a harder time than usually getting changes through. It was only a matter of time, but it was still more inefficient than I would have liked. Not to mention frustrating.

When I reached the mansion, most of the members of the branch house were there to greet me. After making sure that Cersei had arrived, I had them direct me to the corpses. I walked alone into the room and had the attending servants leave. On three beds were the corpses. The two R'hllor priests were in a varying degree of decomposition, their smell a bit better with what seemed to be a liberal application of perfume. However, it was Melisandre who caught my attention. Her corpse was pristine, as if she was only just sleeping.

I never expected this. I should have expected this, honestly. Even in my past life, there was a period of time in the feudal era where the influx of Christianity from foreign missionaries was discriminated heavily against, such that people had to hide their faith or be killed. As such, there was past precedent that I could have based it on, but I really didn't think of it. Shintoism, Buddhism, and Christianity weren't really part of my daily modern life; it just wasn't as prominent as it used to be, therefore it completely slipped my mind. Or at least, that was what I kept telling myself.

It was hard. Hard to look at her like this when I knew that it was my fault.

The last time that I talked to her was when the tournament was happening. She had promised that with the coming batch of new missionaries, there would be no more need for her presence in the city. From then on, she was going to devote her time to teaching me magic. I had been excited to the point that I could barely wait.

Damn it.

I stood there. I didn't know how long. My eyes eventually turned to the jewel in her neck choker. I was surprised she still had it; it was a beautiful enough ruby that seemed to be constantly flickering, something that I would expect would be the first thing looted from her even before her hanging.

Perhaps, it was because of that long solitary moment that I saw her chest move slightly.

I was quickly by her side, putting two fingers on her neck.

There was a pulse. Faint but steady.

"My lord, I wasn't aware that you came for a visit."

I found myself staring into the open and amused eyes of a certain still-alive priestess.

"I see reports of your death were greatly exaggerated." I deadpanned, seeming calmer than how I actually felt.

"Were I a normal woman, it wouldn't be exaggerated at all."

"You're still injured; you need to be seen by a maester. I'll arrange for the evacuation of you and your priests."

"That won't be necessary," Melisandre said. "The time for theatrics is now, my lord, or this port will forever be in the hold of the Seven."

~o~

Night had fallen, but on the beach of Lannisport, there were numerous torches that illuminated the darkness. Crowds were gathered around were in such numbers that it was like the entirety of Lannisport came out on this night. That was because it was.

A few hours ago, I had sent out people to shout out the information, that by the order of House Lannister, everyone in the city was to appear at the beach when night falls and the moon rises. Anyone—except for the infirm and their caretaker—that was loitering around in town would be taken by the guards as thieves who plan the rob the houses while everyone was gone. I made absolutely sure that everyone was notified.

The crowd was gathered around in a half-circle around a small hill of stacked wooden logs. By its appearance alone, they would know that this had the makings to start a bonfire. However, on top of the logs were three bodies. They were precisely the two priests and one priestess who were killed a couple of days ago. In that sense, it was actually a funeral pyre.

As I stood before the small tower of wood, looking over the crowd, I couldn't help but give Cersei, who was standing next to me, a side-glance. Despite her mood, she seemed curious as to what all this was. I hadn't really wanted to show her this scene, but leaving her in the empty city was just asking for something bad to happen. I took a deep breath before I looked back at the crowd gathered around.

"My name!" As I began, the crowds quickly quieted down, allowing the sound of breathing and flickering torches to be heard. "Many of you know my name, but some of you don't. So let me speak this clearly. My name is Hachi Lannister, heir to House Lannister. I am your future lord. I brought the religion of R'hllor to Westeros. Some of you are not happy with that. I understand. However! Under my decree, both the faith of the Seven and R'hllor was to be accepted in Lannisport. Yet in spite of this, you defied me and hung three people."

The crowd started to become rowdy.

"Silence!" The people quickly became quiet. "It is well within my rights to punish you however I see fit, but I won't. This is the only time I will let this go. If this happens again, my wrath shall be felt. Both faiths are to be tolerated in Lannisport. I will accept no objection. If you feel that I am being unfair or unjust, you may leave Lannisport. I'll not stop you. However, if you stay, you will listen to my decrees. Make no mistake; my word here is law."

"But the King's law—!"

"The King's law will be followed, but so will mine in this city." I glanced to a guard with a torch near me. He nodded and handed over the torch to me. "In penance for this tragedy, all of you must witness this funeral. I will personally light this funeral pyre and set right the wrong that you had all committed. This is my responsibility as your lord."

I turned around and walked over to the small tower of wooden logs. Stopping right besides it, I stood silent for a moment. I gave a bow, which was something that caused many to gasp in surprise. It was only when I stood up straight again that placed the head of the burning torch against the pyre, setting the wood alight. Like a hungry beast, the flames spread across the logs, setting it all aflame with the crackles of the devouring fire. Soon, the entire tower was on fire.

I backed away to where Cersei was standing and watched it burn. I felt a hand squeezed mine, charmingly soft but firm, and I knew that it was my little sister without having to look. As the fire carried on, the wood began to crack. Throughout all of this, the crowd was entirely silent, watching the pyre burn.

Until it was broken by a shout.

"Something is moving in there!"

The crowd started to become rowdy as voices began shouting out.

A feminine figure began to walk out of the flames, setting foot on the sand with the flames still flickering over her bare skin. Naked as the day she was born, with the exception of a gemmed necklace, Melisandre moved across the sand as if she had not been injured at all.

Some in the crowd fell to their knees while a couple shouted witchcraft. However, none could deny what they were seeing. I felt Cersei squeezing my hand harder. With a glance to my side, I sent a guard walking towards the red priestess with a robe that I had prepared for her. He draped the red robe around her shoulders, and she nodded her thanks to him. However, she didn't accept his assistance as she walked over to me.

Even through the darkness of the night, lit only by the bonfire and torches, I could see from this close that, under the cover of the red robes that hid her, her skin had been scorched in some spots. There were even angry red burns on her hands and the lower side of her left cheek as well. I hadn't controlled the flames well enough.

"I've returned, my lord," she simply said.

"Welcome back."

~o~

A/N: Currently resisting the urge to get addicted to another game again.


	11. Chapter 10: Ruby

Chapter 10: Ruby

~o~

A loud slap rang throughout the courtyard.

The moment that I had stepped off the carriage on my return from Lannisport with Cersei and Melisandre, the first to greet me was a certain Tywin Lannister. Of course, what came next was self-explanatory.

When I turned my head back, I saw him stare down at me with disappointment. All I could do was nurse my bruised cheek.

There was no reprimand or complaint. There was, in fact, no word at all. He simply turned about and walked away.

He knew what I had done. More important than that, he knew that I knew.

It left me with a mysterious and deep sense of regret.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to do.

Oh? Did you think I would become depressed and desperately seek out fatherly approval? I had already experienced and suffered through the depths of that before my transmigration. My corporate-enslaved parents were the type who had attempted to appeal to my family piety by using loving encouragement, harsh criticisms, and then finally silent disapproval with a side of resignation. Besides that, I had time and mental age on my side. I was immune to all of that!

No, that wasn't right. I still felt something. If anything, I was afraid to put it into words, to make what I felt more of a reality than it was. Worse was the fact that I was distinctly aware of that. Some people liked to imagine me as an unfeeling monster, and at times, I liked to imagine that of myself, but I wasn't. I really wasn't.

I did something big. Really big. There was already controversy about allowing missionaries of the red faith to freely preach in Lannisport. Now, especially with my involvement, there was going to be deep consequences. Yet, I got away with just a slap.

No, that was wrong too. If I thought about it rationally, then I would be called in later to give a full report and receive the real punishment.

Of course, being the heir, it shouldn't be too bad. Hopefully.

After that, I made my way to my bedroom. On the way, nobody interrupted me and those that saw me shied away. It was a given—with how public the slap had been—that the information would have spread far beyond the confines of the courtyard like a plague. Nobody wanted to earn the ire of an irate noble, but even if that was the common sense of the world, it wasn't like I going to do that. In fact, I had never gave out any punishment, even during that time when I had laundry water accidentally splashed on me. I felt bad just from them pleading desperately for mercy and forgiveness.

After I entered my room, the door closed behind me. Of course, by that, I definitely mean that I didn't close it myself. Taking a glance back, I saw Melisandre with her back against the door. She turned the lock with a click.

My springtime is here!

No, not really. Not that I had anything against beautiful women who were old enough to be my great great grandmother, but I knew she wasn't looking for that kind of thing. More than that, I wasn't looking for that kind of thing. At the moment, I didn't feel that much. In a couple of years, I would probably be assaulted by raging hormones and liable to repeat the disastrous circumstances of my middle school years in unfortunate misunderstandings that would lead to massive humiliation and extensive trauma. The kind of thing like, "Ah, she smiled at me. That must mean she likes me," which eventually leads to: "Sorry, you're a nice guy, but I only think of you as a friend." Of course, despite the so-called "friendship," the event would spread out throughout the school like wildfire, leading to endless teasing and screaming into pillows—

"My lord, are you okay?" Melisandre stood right in front of me with her hand on my cheek.

"I'm fine," I hurriedly said as I brushed off her hand. Ah, that was close. I almost dazed out right then and there. Walking over to the brazier I had set to the side, I dragged it over until it was in the middle of the room. After I took out all the material—and conducted some fire safety precautions—I set fire to the brazier with my powers and waited. It wasn't a long wait; we had already agreed beforehand that this was his exclusive brazier and that I wouldn't be using it for lighting or heating.

As expected, that otaku appeared within the flames, molding the fire to the shape of his chubby face.

"The great Zaimokuza is here!" The flames condensed in a solid looking face, a far-cry from the mess of flickering flames that it was in the years before. He even was able to recreate his glasses without any of the fire spreading beyond the outline. Oh wait, he recreated his upper body along with his trench coat, making him look like a fire genie. Did he really have to recreate the anime logo and character on his shirt though? "Of course I needed to; it's Emilia-tan. Now, bow, kneel, and genuflect, for the great samurai general is here once more to save the day."

"You said great twice."

"It's necessary to illustrate how great I am."

"…great."

"Ohohoho? As expected of my rival, to twist 'great' into an expression of sarcasm."

"Just when did you start laughing like a rich daughter?" Sometimes, I just couldn't grasp what was going through his mind. Most of the time, I didn't want to. With a shake of my head, I said, "Never mind that. What about her?"

"Her who?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and merely glanced at the other occupant of the room with a tilt of my head. He followed my gaze before his flaming eyes almost comically widened in surprise. It worried me that he was actually supposed to be a god in some capacity. As for the girl in question, Melisandre was staring back at us with wide eyes and mouth, but it was easy to tell her feelings by the open expression of awe and worship on her face. Even though she could only hear one side of the conversation—my side—I supposed it was a lot of stimulus to finally see her god for the first time.

"Oh, her." He opened his mouth, as if to say to something, but he paused instead. "What about her?"

"How is she still alive?"

"Well, that's…"

"If you say 'secret,' I'm going to sell this brazier."

"…a long story," Zaimokuza finished.

"Better."

"I may have made some…mistakes in the past. Well, I wouldn't say mistakes. I think of them as experiments that didn't quite work out."

"What did you do?"

"I made a few special gemstones filled with magic. They swap your soul with the magic. Your soul in the gemstone and most of the magical energy in your body. Magic works differently internally than externally so its enhancement effects works far better than wearing external gear."

No, it couldn't be that…

"I may have taken some inspiration from a magical girl anime that I once saw," Zaimokuza slowly said. "In particular, soul gems."

"And it didn't occur to you that this might be a bad idea?"

"The problem with the anime's soul gems was that they couldn't replenish magical energy easily. My gemstones drains it from the surrounding environment and lets it filter into the body. No grief mechanics! Though, there's a lot less energy in the environment these days. I started the project centuries ago."

"But that anime only existed when I was alive so that's a few decades at most. It can't be that far back."

"Well, the time difference between the dimensions is not exactly straight-forward," Zaimokuza said. "Don't ask me to explain it. It just works."

"Time dilation? Time synchronization? Time distortion?"

"It just works! Don't question it too deeply!"

"Fine, but in all that time, didn't you think it'd be a bad idea to displace the soul?"

"Weeeelllll… It worked for you."

He had a point there, though I wasn't reborn back then.

"I figured this wouldn't be so drastic of a difference. Their souls would still be close enough, but the distance does reduce pain and emotions. Still, it was a good trade-off. An enhanced body for reduced pain and emotions," Zaimokuza said. "And it worked, for a time, but it turns out that feeling less emotions made some of them become obsessed with it. Some tried to reverse the process by using a strange ritual or destroying the soul gem, which of course didn't work. Others embraced going to the extreme to elicit an emotional response from themselves. They just all became too focused on what they lost."

"So many are left?"

"A few," he responded. "Only Melisandre is still by my side. As for the rest, I'm still hunting them down."

"Hunting them down…?" I felt a chill down my spine at his words.

"None of them became vigilante super heroes while I wasn't looking. When I said they took it to the extreme, I really do mean extreme. Their sins are many; I can't allow them to run amok." Zaimokuza had a pensive look on his face. "Like I said, mistakes were made."

"So what about her?" Taking a glance at the side, I saw that Melisandre was still staring with creepily unblinking eyes.

"Well, she's not exactly stable, but it's not exactly bad. Some of them focus on certain feelings, pleasure being one of the more popular ones, but for her, it's piety."

"So she's a complete religious zealot."

"Better than lust or gluttony. Besides, I'm sure you can help her. I wouldn't assign her to just anybody. You should be proud to be my super special subordinate." Zaimokuza pointed a finger at me. "Why do you think I reincarnated you into the wealthy Lannister family?"

"Because their red armor looks like samurai armor?"

"Well, errr…umm, yes, but when you put it like that…" The flaming god's pose began to crumble. He vigorously shook his head and slapped his own cheeks, somehow making a sound despite his hands and cheeks being made out of flames. "Moving on! You just need to watch out for Melisandre. This is her first time living in the same castle, though I think it'll be fine if she doesn't try to do something to you within a couple of weeks Just lock your door at night." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And lock your windows."

"Wait, what do you mean lock my windows?"

"You never know when she'll come night-crawling." He waved off my concern. "It'll be fine, it'll be fine. What's the worst you can lose? Still, that's a worry for later."

"Do you not remember my situation right now?" I glanced at Melisandre and the locked door.

"Oh right…" Zaimokuza scratched his head. "Run?"

"You're useless."

"Kuh! My heart." Zaimokuza held his left chest, as if he had been shot with an arrow.

"If you're done joking, can we be serious now?"

"What's the big deal? She doesn't seem like she's going to conduct a religious murder-suicide ritual. Even though there are a few in the sacrifice section, which I'll need you to change, but that's a concern for later." Zaimokuza turned to glance at Melisandre. "Look at her. She's still in worship mode. Even has that dazed look in her eyes. She does look a little flushed—wait, is she drooling?"

"Melisandre?" I directed my voice at her.

"Huh? M-my lord?" Melisandre blinked out of her daze and quickly wiped her mouth. "For-forgive me, my lord, for my impropriety."

"You know who she reminds me of." Zaimokuza placed a hand on his chin. "Ebina Hina."

"How so?"

"Her appearance when she was staring at us. I bet if we teach her how to draw manga, she would make a doujin of us. Where I, as R'hllor, would come down before you and say, 'Come, my faithful, and I'll teach you the ways of the world.' The next part would be uncensored since this isn't Japan."

The frightening thing was that I could imagine that happening. Her drawing that, not Zaimokuza indulging in the yaoi spirit.

"What should I do now?"

"Didn't you bring her here to teach you magic?" Zaimokuza asked with a shrug. "Learn as much as you can before she goes insane and you have to destroy her soulgem."

"She—" I stopped myself and lowered my voice so the person in question wouldn't hear it. "She's not a zombie."

"I know, but she could go crazy at anytime. She's like a ticking time-bomb," Zaimokuza whispered conspiratorially.

"Why are you speaking so low?"

"Why are you?"

"She can't hear—never mind." Why was I even bothering to whisper. I returned my voice to normal and turned to Melisandre. "Sorry for the late introduction. This is…R'hllor. Is there anything you want to say or ask him? I'll voice his responses."

Melisandre's eyes gleamed as she began to speak…

~o~

That night…

Wait, you wanted to know what Melisandre said? There was a reason that I skipped it. What would you say when you were confronted with the very god you worshiped? The answer was not calling him Being X. It consisted of the same platitudes as you would expect, praising him and such. I won't get into the details since I didn't want to remember things that closely. After that, it was the standard set of questions. What is the meaning of life? Why was I born? Where do babies come from? Well, no, not the last one, but it was still pretty mundane. Of course, I had to listen to Zaimokuza's flippant responses and translate them into something more appropriate, even though it was just as vague. I felt like one of those political translators that would translate the cursing of their employers into polite speech.

As I was saying, that night…which was actually this night, I was currently lying in bed. Even though I was tired, I couldn't fall asleep. There was a very good reason for this.

It was because my door knob kept shaking.

I was lying on my side, watching the door silently in the dark. Of course, it wouldn't open because I had locked it earlier, but the rattle of the door knob had been going on for the last ten minutes. If it had been a normal person, after twisting the knob once or twice and finding out that it was locked, wouldn't they have given up already? What was the point of testing it over and over again when they knew what the result would be? Was that common sense that exceeded the dimensional boundaries of worlds and universes?

Was this going to continue all night?

Reaching the end of my patience, I said loudly, "It's locked."

A muffled voice behind the door answered me. "Did I wake you, my lord?"

I held in the urge to rub my head. "Melisandre, what are you doing here?"

"I have something to discuss with you."

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked exasperatedly. "Can't we talk in the morning?"

"It's urgent."

"What's it in regards to?"

"I can't speak of it out here. Someone might overhear." Her voice seemed a little breathless. "Will you unlock the door now?"

"I refuse." If I hadn't heard Zaimokuza's warning, I would have probably let her in, but now that I did, I wasn't willing to be in a room alone with her. It was for that reason that, for the whole day, there had always been someone else present when I was with her. For the truly crazy, it wouldn't be much of a determent, but for now, it was good enough. I believed that if she was crazy, she would still be in the initially crazy stage.

There are five stages of crazy that I had come up with from countless movies and anime. It wasn't too accurate since I never met someone insane yet and there were different varieties of insanity, but it would do.

First stage - rejection: "I'm not crazy."

Second stage - anger: "Seriously, I'm not crazy, you bastard!"

Third stage - bargaining: "If I was crazy, would I do this?"

Forth stage - depression: "You…you don't really believe me, do you…?"

Fifth and final stage - acceptance/rebound: "I admit it, I'm crazy, but that's okay. Let's all die together."

If this sounds a lot like the five stages of rejection, it is just a coincidence.

I admit that it wasn't too accurate, as depending on each individual insanity, it could either skip or stay at a stage indefinitely. However, that was the unpredictability of life, I thought sagely as I ignored Melisandre's pleas for me to open the door. Then I heard her become quiet. It was only moments later when her footsteps began sounding out and receding as she got further away.

I relaxed into my pillow. Finally.

A few minutes later, I heard a loud rattling from my locked window. It was far too persistent and consistent to be the wind.

Damn it.

~o~

"Well, what was it that you needed to speak with me last night about?"

I was standing in Melissandre's room with a haggard face with the door guard beside me. Opposite of me was the red priestess with a look of confusion on her face.

"Last night? I was sleeping the whole time, my lord."

I turned my head to glance at the guard. He nodded his head.

"It's true, sire. She never left the room. Not while I was guarding."

The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise.

I assigned guards for my door and window for tonight.

~o~

Well, two weeks later—

Wait, you wanted to know what happened with the nighttime visits? Nothing did. After I assigned guards to keep watch, I hadn't had a repeat, such that I was starting to doubt my own paranoia.

After that, I had Melisandre teach me magic. I had Jaime and Cersei join in as well, though Jaime backed out of it pretty early. He wasn't the type to care that much about it, it seemed. Cersei, on the other hand, practically worshiped the ground the older woman walked on, ever since she saw that revival act. She was now hanging off of her every word, to the point where she was starting to neglect her sword practices, scholastic studies, and etiquette classes.

In the course of the classes, I had found—to my dismay—that my little sister was a far better student than I was. Of course, I wouldn't have cared with how compulsory education in the modern world and the fact Komachi had always been a better student than me, but this was magic. Magic! This was what dreams were made out of. My combined age from both lives was technically enough for me to qualify as a wizard. Oh wait, no, I actually didn't qualify since it would only be 27 years old when combined. Well, by the time three years passes by, that would be the year I hit puberty and marriageable age. How tragic.

Since then, a full two weeks had passed me by. In regards to Lannisport, things had exploded. Most that had seen the event converted over to the red faith, and the rumors of it was spreading far and wide. Of course, it was just rumors and hearsay to most of Westeros at this point with most thinking that they are embellished lies. It was like parting the red sea; a fantastical event that would most likely garner disbelief from those who hadn't seen it first-hand. And maybe some from those that did see it. It was, after all, more than a bit unbelievable.

Of course, there was fallout from this event. Since I was a major participant in it, I was now being closely associated with the religion of R'hllor. This was both good and bad. Well, more bad than good.

That was because Lannisport had practically turned into a town that almost completely supported the red faith. However, it's reputation was dropping fast because the rest of Westeros believed in the Seven. Except the North, but nobody really cared about that snowy region. It was just home to barbarians who worship creepy trees—or at least, that was what I had heard. If I went by how the North was viewed, I was willing to bet that the West would eventually be considered the territory of cultists.

Truthfully, I didn't know much about the red faith except for the basics like the good god being Zaimokuza and the bad god being an ice necromancer. The living versus the dead. Though, hopefully, the world wouldn't turn into something out of zombie movie. Wait, technically, the Long Night was essentially a zombie apocalypse…

Now that I thought about it, didn't I ponder about this before? Well, I supposed it didn't matter if I did or didn't.

What mattered more was that my name was becoming famous, except it was for all the wrong reasons.

It was unavoidable, though. I had to go through with the resurrection, as it took out two problems that I was having. The first being that Melisandre was dead, and the second being that the spread of the red faith was near nonexistent. I supposed that it was more the latter than the former since I could have had the former done in private. I admit that the former was still important though, since few actual magic users were willing to cross the seas to Westeros, even under Zaimokuza's prophetic urgings. Learning magic would take an even longer time since I would need to find a new and trustworthy teacher. That wasn't even mentioning the different types of magic.

Still, the rise of the red faith was much more important. With the increased influence, Zaimokuza would have more power in the region. It was mostly concentrated in Lannisport, but it was starting to spread. I had to make contingencies in case the Faith of the Seven started to take action. It would start with subterfuge, so it would be awhile before it would become more public and organize the zealots into an actual force.

So why was I thinking about all of this, while I was lying awake in bed, unable to sleep under the light of the moon and the chilly winds?

I had thought it was safe so I dismissed the guards. Even though I had locked my door, I had forgotten to lock my window. Did you really think I would see the moonlight if my curtains weren't parted and feel the chilly winds if my window wasn't open?

Melisandre was standing by my bedside, staring down at me. I was staring up at her.

I hadn't even realized that she had come in until she was by my bedside, gazing silently down at me. It was an awkward situation where I didn't know what to say, even as I crept my hand slowly towards the dagger hidden under my pillow.

You know when I was thinking about how hard it would be to find a replacement teacher who was trustworthy? I was a little bit more open to it now, especially since my current one was not trustworthy at all. Not after her resurrection, at least.

Her hand slammed down on my pillow, pinning my wrist underneath. I had just grabbed the handle of the dagger, but I couldn't move.

She leaned down toward me as I began to tremble. The swirls of her eyes were reflecting crazily in the moonlight.

Her lips parted, and she whispered—

~o~

I opened my eyes to the morning light. As I sat up, I stretched my neck and arms. The curtains were closed so I got up from my bed and walked over, spreading it open. The bright glare of the sun shone down on me as I opened the window, letting the cool breeze flush over the staleness of the room. A bundle of clothes was handed to me, and I got changed into them. Some nobles wanted servants to change their clothes for them, but I wasn't like that. I still retained my Japanese upbringing so I couldn't bring myself to do that. Once I was done changing, I left to go to the privy for my morning routine.

It was called a privy here, but it was essentially a bathroom, medieval style. Basically a counter-top with a hole in it. Not really comfortable, and what I had to use afterwards to clean definitely wasn't on the level of toilet paper, but I had to make do. Gratefully, I was handed a clean bucket of water to wash up with.

I eventually came to the breakfast table and started eating my meal with the rest of my family. The expression on Tywin's face was as stoic as ever, though my brother and sister had a strange look on their faces, even as they started eating. After awhile, I turned my head to the side and allowed a towel to clean my mouth since a bit of sauce had dripped down at the corner of my lip. Once that was done, I continued my meal. At some point, Tywin finished his meal and left, leaving only me and my siblings at the table. It was only then that Cersei finally gave voice to a thought she had been holding in this whole time.

"Why is teacher Meli here?"

"What are you talking about? Melisandre—" Was right next to me. I stared at her, even as she held the used toilet with a smile.

She was the one who handed me my clothes.

She was the one who handed me the bucket of water.

She was the one who cleaned my mouth with the towel.

"Ah…ah…"

She had never left my side. Not when I changed my clothes and not even when I was in the privy, doing my business. Wait, when did she first came to my side? I remembered that she was there when I woke up. Was it last night?

As I thought about it, my memory came back to that whisper. After that, everything was a blank.

"Melisandre," I said after awhile, my emotions in a swirl. "What did you—"

"Our fates are now conjoined, my lord."

"Wait, does that mean…?"

Melisandre smiled and pointed at her golden choker with the blood-red ruby. I stared back her blankly, unsure of her meaning. She merely turned her finger and pointed at my own neck. I reached up my hand even as I gazed downward. The exact same choker with a similar blood-red gem was around my neck.

Huh.

I moved to take off the choker, but Melisandre placed her hand on mine, stopping me from doing so.

"You mustn't take it off, my lord Hachi."

I raised an eyebrow, but I didn't take it further. I would just have to ask Zaimokuza about it later.

~o~

"I don't know," Zaimokuza said with a shrug of his flaming shoulders.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I standing in my room with the burning brazier. It wasn't exactly a private conversation since Melisandre was here; I couldn't exactly find it in myself to shut the door in her face.

"I'm the god of fire, shadow, and anime. I don't know that much about soul magic, but that's definitely not your soul in there."

"Wait, where did that last domain come from?"

"Since that will be my domain in the future, I thought that I should include it early so that I'd get used to it."

"This is way too early!"

"Anyways," Zaimokuza said, changing the topic at his own whim. "The necklace isn't going to hurt you. I already checked. She split off a piece of her soul into there somehow. You know, like what couples do. Not that I would know, seeing that I'm still single, you bastard."

"You're a god; you can get anyone you want."

"Yes, but I want a girl who'll love me for me and not because she feels she has to." Zaimokuza twiddled his flaming fingers together. "I want something genuine!"

"What? S-shut up! Where did you hear about that!?" I could feel my cheeks heating up as the unwanted memory came to me.

"I've my sources~. Besides, what's wrong with true love between a mortal and a god? Wouldn't that make a good light novel series?" Zaimokuza smirked. "Besides, you got some of those cliches from transmigration stories going on. Just think about it. Your otherworldly harem is finally starting. You now have the extremely mature older woman in your harem."

"Extremely mature? Shouldn't it just be mature?"

"Well, think of it this way. Aged wine is fruity, but aged wine times ten is extra fruity."

"That doesn't make sense either!"

"You'll understand someday," Zaimokuza said sagely before turning his eyes aside. "…by the way, keep her necklace safe."

"I was planning on returning it."

"Do you think it'd be that easy? She gave you a piece of her soul! If you return it, she might act like a spurned woman and throw it away or something," the flaming head said. "Besides, she already connected the piece to your soul."

"She did what?!"

"Don't worry. It's better this way. You don't have to worry about any sacrifices involving you as the main participant, and you now have a fashionable matching choker you can show off at parties."

"I'm not seeing the benefits here."

"Just don't lose it, okay? I'm not too clear on what would happen, but it'd be bad. For her. And you. Well, maybe. Seventy Percent sure."

I could feel a headache coming on.

"Fifty-five percent sure. No, forty percent sure. I'm pretty sure it's forty percent sure."

"Stop saying sure," I said, rubbing my temple.

"Sure."

I angrily grabbed a nearby bowl of water and doused the brazier, ignoring the otaku's cry of "I'm melting, I'm melting." Only once his flaming image and screams faded did I finally let out a sigh of frustration. I touched the choker on my neck. This was what was currently on my mind. Besides being a strange fashion sense for a man and being attached to his soul, it matched Melisandre's choker completely. Wasn't this a statement that they were together? Or would it be more a statement that he was part of the R'hllor religion? Even if he didn't want to mess with the political arena, he had practically been born into it so there was no avoiding it. This was getting complicated.

"Couldn't she have made this a little less conspicuous?" I rubbed my thumb against the ruby of the golden choker.

"Would you prefer it to be a bracelet?" I froze at her voice and turned my head rigidly.

Melisandre crawled out from under my bed.

"What… Why…?"

"The realm of shadows is the domain of my lord," Melisandre said nonchalantly as she stood up and brushed off the dust. "For a prince's bedroom, I'd expect it to be cleaner."

"First, I'm not a prince. Second, that's under my bed. Sure, it has a lot of shadows, but don't hide under there! I happen to like my privacy."

"I'm aware. These drawings are—"

"Not another word!" I snatched the scrolls out of her hand and placed them gently aside. "Why are you hiding in my room?"

"To observe your majesty," Melisandre said with a look of wonder. "Our fates are tied together, my lord."

"You…you heard all that, did you?"

"Only your side of the conversation, but it's enough," she said, the wonder in her eyes and the gracious smile not fading in the slightest.

So basically, she heard nothing important.

"Look, Melisandre—" A sneeze interrupted me. Normally, I wouldn't really have noticed, except that it didn't come from either of us. It came from under the bed, and it was familiar. "Okay, come out. Now."

Cersei and Jamie crawled out from under the bed, both of them looking guilty and sheepish. Melisandre brushed the dust off them like a mother hen. I merely rubbed my head.

"Is Tyrion down there too? Maybe Tywin? What about Uncle Gerion? Aunt Genna? Cousin Lancel, are you under there as well?"

Jamie shook his head. "Don't be mad, Hachi."

"I'm not." I sighed as I began to calm down.

"Well, I am!" Cersei seemed to have regained her dignity, glaring at me with a ferocity that only little sisters had. "You've been keeping secrets from us!"

"That's…" I began, but Melisandre shook her head.

"They have the blood of Azor Ahai running through them as well. They deserve to know, for the future is dark and only the light of our lord can save them."

I frowned. I really wanted to retort back at her, but if I did, I would seem like the bad guy in this situation. This was so unfair, but if the choice had came to me, I would have still kept it a secret from my twin siblings. Now that it had came to this, forcefully by that red priestess's hands, I couldn't keep silent about it. With another sigh—I seemed to be sighing a lot these days—I allowed my flame powers to envelop my hand in fire. The twins stared at it with wide eyes.

"It all happened…" I paused for a moment. "…a few years ago."

Even if I was telling them some things, I wasn't going to tell them everything. Just only up to what Melisandre knew about and certainly nothing about my reincarnation.

~o~

A/N: The obligatory cool-down chapter. Because in Westeros, beach episodes don't exist.

Also, I'm addicted. Forgive me for my weakness.


	12. Chapter 11: Calm (279 AC)

Chapter 11: Calm (279 AC)

~o~

I was now thirteen years old, but there was much that had happened in the three years since Melisandre came to live in Casterly Rock instead of at Lannisport. The ruby choker around my neck was too obvious so I had it changed to a bracelet when I couldn't convince her to disconnect me from it. It wasn't for lack of trying, but she often only answered with veiled words and cryptic sayings. In other words, she was misdirecting me with nonsense. I was pretty sure it was nonsense since her words to me seemed to change every time I asked. Normally, you would be able to narrow down the true answer with so many different "clues," but they had only the vaguest connection to each other, such that they were almost unrelated. Probably was, given how she acted.

I had gained an odd reputation. I was viewed as practically the spokesperson for the red faith. The septons and septas have practically taken to trying to corner at all times of the day, preaching to me to return to the "right" path. They had taken to conducting lectures in the courtyard below my window. It wasn't like I was religious in the first place, but I wasn't that bad. I used to go the Shinto temples on New Years to buy a paper fortune telling and—actually, that was it. Still, the way they were going about it made it seem like I was the root of all evil.

Tywin ignored me for a year. It was a productive year.

When I was eleven years old, what got him talking to me again was because an invitation was sent to me by Rhaegar to squire under him at King's Landing. I probably would have been squired, if I hadn't been so adamant against it. I had a nice, comfortable lifestyle here. If I became a squire, not only would my days be filled with menial tasks, but I would also be training from dawn to dusk. Was this the so-called medieval youth? Working everyday at a sport in order to attain glory at the regional and national tournaments? Would I be able to make it to Koshien stadium with my baseball team?

Haha, baseball, you ask? Isn't swinging a bat and a sword the same thing?

Frankly, that was youth. Putting in your all to reach that championship, after which only one of you will become a pro-athlete (not you) while the rest (probably you) hang up their cap and join a black company.

What? It builds character? I'm sure getting a job cleaning the sewers builds character too, but you won't see me down there with a mop. The lies told to youth are the same ones that make up youth.

In conclusion, youth is a miserable little pile of lies, but mankind ill needs a savior such as me.

With all that in mind, could I invest that amount of effort and time to be a squire?

The answer to that was obviously no. I had to get out of it by any means necessary so I did everything I could. Almost all of it didn't work, but it did force Tywin down to my level. If he had stayed adamant as a parent—and lord of the Lannister House—then I would have no choice. However, to convince me to go willingly, he played into my hands. I challenged him to a war game using the complete set of rules that took me years to make and balance. It was so complete and detailed that a match certainly could not be played casually or even easier, with each turn being both time-consuming and mentally draining.

With Uncle Kevan as our game master—providing judgment as well as an ear to hear and keep track of the secret tactics we used against each other—and our only other spectators being close relatives that we could trust such as my uncles and aunts, we began a game that encompassed the entirety of Westeros. From sunrise to sunset, we played, but even then, it took more than half a year before we finished. We did not explain our tactics to each other like we usually did in the rule-lite version; every single action was accompanied by mechanics that involved numbers and the dice, adjusted by Uncle Kevan for the difficulty of each action.

Tywin started as the Lannister House of the Westerlands and I began the game as the Baratheon House of the Stormlands. The Targaryens could not be played as, as they were NPCs with their own unique mechanics that made them similar to a Shogun in feudal Japan, though with more power. The rules were very detailed. Every month was a turn. The map was gridded, such that when secret actions were told to Uncle Kevan, the location would be spoken through coordinates rather than pointing with a finger to keep each of those actions private. Each city and village had an economy, one that both simple and complex. Of course, I couldn't make it like a real video game since I didn't have a computer to do all the calculations, but it was detailed enough to be approximate based on a few resources that were clumped together into a single category like food. Even the morale was calculated for each town and village as well as for the armies. Everything that I could think of was put in here.

And so we began a game to decide my future. With so much weight behind it, I played aggressively from the start. While Tywin was building up political connections, I focused on resources. What I learned from real time strategy games was that I had to build my economy first and foremost; everything else would come later. Each of our territories came with an inherited army, one that I quickly put to use to cut down on banditry in my region. The Westerland started with an advantage in that Casterly Rock contained a huge gold mine, but the Stormlands was not without its benefits. As my territory was close enough to Essos, I sent out preliminary ships across the Narrow Sea to begin negotiation on trade agreements with the various port cities. It was without question that I did it to increase the wealth of my economy. As the Westerland was on the far side of Westeros, even if they set up an agreement with Essos, they would have to have ships travel around the entire continent. Not many would be willing to do such a trip.

Of course, I couldn't have the ships riding to their deaths through Shipbreaker Bay. Even if I had a safe route mapped out through underwater rock formations, the storms could easily push the ships into those rocks anyways. So my solution was simple. That was to not use Shipbreaker Bay at all. I had the ships sail around the northern side of the island of Tarth and across the Straits of Tarth. That meant a trading port had to be created a little bit north of Storm's End, under the control of House Roger, but it was close enough to the main road. It would also be the place where I would build my ship fleet, with wood provided from Kingswood.

How I played in those strategy video games had influenced my way of thinking. As my economy increased, I recruited more to my standing army while improving both their training and equipment. I focused on training peasants into men-at-arms instead of focusing on the nobility's knights. Trade agreements were quickly reached with House Tyrell in the Reach and secret sanctions were leveled against the Westerlands. It was a few schemes to lower his food supply. However, I underestimated Tywin. He made a lot of connections and allies, letting him bypass my schemes by using House Hightower and their control of Oldtown, while putting me on the defensive with agreements with Houses within my territory. From there, our secret war was fought for many turns. After that, war finally broke out. Even with the crown's intervention, we were already enemies from the start and it merely escalated. By that time, the entirety of Westeros was engulfed in war.

Tywin had more allies, but I had a stable trade and war economy. Sellswords and sellsails supplemented the numbers I lacked while my overly trained army was able to rip through hosts filled with arrogant knights and hastily conscripted peasants. What did he think would happen when you used peasants that only wielded hoes and kitchen knives? I didn't need to be a professional gamer to know the results of that.

However, I didn't rely on just my army. I wanted a hundred percent completion rate, a perfect run. Tywin thought of this war game as an extension of real life. In fact, everyone from Westeros would think this way. However, I thought of it as an actual game. As such, I used tactics and methods that could only be done by me specifically because I thought of this was as a game. I poisoned wells of villages, killed off his resource collectors, bribed his warehouse managers to misplace their inventory into my pocket, dug tunnels underneath towns and loaded it with barrels of wildfire, paid pirates and Ironborn to reave across his coastlines, planted traitors that gave false information, lured his hosts into forests filled with deadly traps, and used assassins to frequently kill off random city dwellers to cause a campaign of terror. My tactics were vile to the extreme, but it brought results.

As I escalated the game, using the underhanded weapons in my arsenal, so too did Tywin become more ruthless, seeming to hold himself back far less than before. From this, I saw a new side of him that I hadn't seen in my entire life. I admit that I was afraid of him, but he was probably the same, afraid of me. As the game went on, Tywin left the duties of lordship to Aunt Genna and Uncle Tygett. Even then, they came by frequently enough to watch, even as the weeks turned into months. As time went on, so too did the looks of the spectators changed. I saw this especially with Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion. Both were proud, never wanting to be under Tywin's shadow yet unable to, which frustrated them. However, the look in both of their eyes gradually turned into something different. It was fear and disgust.

I felt something from that, but at the same time, I knew that feeling well enough. However, I couldn't stop now. By the time that the war game reached the late stages, what had been created was two sides that absolutely could not reconcile. Only one side could live; there would be no peace or coexistence. Even mercy was off the plate at this point. The battles were desperate and bloody. When supplies were low, we raided each other. By the end, every action we committed erupted into violence against the other. It was a bitter war of attrition.

A war that I won by the skin of my teeth. I shattered Casterly Rock and sent whole mountain into the sea. By the end of it, seventy percent of Westero's population had been eradicated, banditry and barbarian tribes were uncountable, and war fleets from Essos were invading. However, I had won, and that was the end of the game. The aftermath wouldn't be pretty, but that wasn't my problem.

Everyone who had the privilege to speculate was there to witness the last stages of the war game. I could see it in their eyes and expressions. If they thought Tywin was ruthless and cunning, then they thought of me as a monster. However, when I looked at Tywin, he was still staring at the table. When he finally looked up, he started laughing. It was an unrestrained laughter that echoed throughout the entirely silent room.

The expression on everybody listening was a fearful one, as if they were disturbed by it. For me, I didn't really feel much about it.

After that, even though this match was to be kept a secret under threat of punishment, my relatives started looking at me differently. That was especially prominent in Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion. They feared me, even though I was a paper lion. There were also traces of nervousness, but instead of disgust, I saw something different. I still couldn't figure out what it was.

At least, I didn't have to squire anymore.

The next year, when I was twelve years old, was actually a quiet year. I played around with Cersei and Tyrion. While Cersei's hatred of our younger brother was still there, it was muted in my presence. There was that consolation, at least. Tyrion was a frail child, so I talked to him and helped him read books since there wasn't much he could do in the first place. Even then, I didn't spend that much time with him. With how nobody really paid him much attention, he looked up to me, and that made me uncomfortable. Still, I tried to make some time no matter how I felt about it.

Ever since Jamie left, Cersei had become more grouchy and irritable. We played far less those days, with her concentrating more on her practices and studies. She had also started to build connections with the girls around her, having them trail behind her like a flock of birds. That made her far less approachable to me. I knew that it was a part of her growing up, but I really didn't feel too good about it. We were starting to separate from one another.

Jamie couldn't visit often from King's Landing, not with his squireship under Rhaegar. He was getting far more skilled at the blade. Cersei hadn't been able to keep up and even got mad about that, even though she herself had cut down on her practice time. Still, that lit a fire in her to improve herself. He used to depend on my judgment for many issues, but I saw he was starting to become independent. That was a good thing, though it did feel a bit lonely. His visits were always too short before he had to be sent back to King's Landing.

Melisandre was still teaching magic to Cersei and me. Even with how loyal and trustworthy she was, she still had a bad habit of hiding in my room and watching me sleep. I had started to ignore it after the first dozen times I threw her out, but that seemed to embolden her. Still, as all humans could, I adapted to it.

My time was taken up with learning in more depth the duties of lordship. Since the match, Tywin had taken it upon himself to push me further in my education about ruling over the Westerlands. Besides dealing with paperwork and reports, he took me around the various nearby castles, holds, towns, and villages in order to familiarize myself with it. At first, I was allowed to take the carriage, but eventually, he wanted me to practice riding. It was such a bouncy affair that not only did it hurt my ass, it made me nausea. I was slowly getting over that.

Well, that was what happened to me, but things were changing in the world.

After Tywin's resignation from being the Hand of the King, the one who replaced him was Owen Merryweather, but because of his incompetent fumbling, even his sycophantic attitude couldn't save him. He was replaced by Steffon Baratheon, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, not to mention he was the cousin and old friend of King Aerys. He was a competent man, enough to keep things afloat even if he couldn't improve it. King Aerys seemed to favor him far more than he ever favored Tywin. When Duskendale stopped paying taxes, Steffon marched a host over to the large port town and spoke with Lord Denys of House Darklyn. Whatever happened there caused the Lord Paramount to raze the town to the ground. Steffon was tight-lipped on what occurred, but King Aerys was quick to forgive him for both his action and his silence.

The red faith hadn't spread out like I thought it would. The Faith of the Seven had become entirely hostile, using a smear campaign that effectively quarantined the religion of R'hllor to pretty much just the Westerlands. Even then, the red faith wasn't even in more than half the Westerland. There had been talks about trying to reinstate the Faith Militant, but the king was quick to curtail that, harshly and brutally. Putting weapons into the hands of people that weren't beholden to the crown wasn't something that any king would allow. Well, besides the religious ones like Baelor.

Just like that, my thirteenth birthday had passed by. Three years had passed by since the clamorous event that led to Melisandre joining me as a close confidant and teacher.

Cersei had recently experienced her first menstruation or "flowering" as they call it here, so she was considered to be of marriageable age, even though she was also still considered to be a child. The age of majority, when a child becomes an adult, was on their sixteenth birthday. Well, it wasn't something that we all had to worry about at the moment since none of us have marriages arranged.

Oh? Thought you misheard that? No, that was right! I was freed from the arranged marriage. To others, it would seem like a situation where I received the dreaded and despicable attack of netorare, better known as NTR. To all of Westeros, it would seem like my marriage partner was stolen from me, unjustly at that by the crown prince Rhaegar. What a nice fellow, taking one for the team.

In all seriousness, this marriage arrangement between Rhaegar and that two-faced nice girl in Dorne was both a snipe at Tywin and to reign the prince in.

There were attempts to find him a wife in Essos with both criteria of blood and status. While there were people of Valyrian blood, their statuses were all too low. Thus, they started looking closer to home. Out of all the eligible girls out there from the different great Houses that composed Westeros, King Aerys chose my betrothed. How could this not be seen as a direct insult against the Lannister House? Tywin and many of my relatives were furious. The entire Westerland was pretty much livid.

As for me, I stopped caring about her after her letters had stopped. She didn't even notify me of the new arrangements. How could I harbor anything but loathing against her? I admit, I had a little bit of hope that it wouldn't end as I expected, but of course, my predictive eye showed the truth through the veil of lies. Truly, nice girls were never to be trusted. All they tended to do was bring up your hopes before stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife. Not that I would know that feeling since I preemptively made myself a fortress. Nope. Not at all.

So what was next on the agenda?

Apparently, getting another arranged marriage to replace my old one.

As I stood on the deck of the ship, watching how the blue ocean reflected the sparkle of the sunlight, I reflected on my life so far and achieved enlightenment, thus becoming a buddha. Well, ideally, that would be what I would be doing on the first ship ride I had ever taken in Westeros, but instead, I was holding on to the railing as I tried to keep my lunch in. I had been on a boat ride once before on Earth with no real adverse effect, but the rocking of this ship was far more heavier here. Getting used to the rickety motion was a trial in and of itself.

Why was I on a ship? That was because I was heading for the Reach along with Tywin and a cadre of loyal retainers. Of course, somehow, that included my most loyal bodyguard and stalker, Melisandre. It had gotten to the point where I could somehow feel her gaze even when I couldn't see her; that was just showed how often she stalked me from the shadows. I had gained a sixth sense exclusive for her, though it only seemed to be effective half the time.

"Crakehall is in sight, my lord," Melisandre said from her position by my side, as if she had always been there. I was pretty sure I was alone a moment before; I hadn't even heard her footsteps.

I used to think that marriage was the graveyard of life. Or more specifically, it was children. If you asked any adults with kids back in Japan, they would say their children's happiness was their happiness. All of the hobbies and activities they used to do before? Gone. Now, it was just their children's happiness that mattered. That was called good parenting. You were subsumed to ensure that the next generation would be able to carry on your genetics and serve as fodder for the succeeding generation. All your available time, if it wasn't taken over already by overtime hell, would be dedicated to spending time with your child doing things like watching that particular children movie for the fifty-sixth time.

Here, in Westeros, it was a bit different. Or rather, for nobility, it was different. Good parenting involved having good servants to raise your child for you. As long as you cared every once in a while, you were considered a good parent. I had to admit that it fit my style, even though I felt bad about it. How about I settle for a compromise then? I will raise my child a little more closely than the Westero nobility standard, thereby qualifying me as a super parent in this society's eyes. Yep, I should settle with that.

As we drifted closer to port, I leaned over the railing and puked.

~o~

After we paid a short—and inconsequential—visit to Crakehall where I rested my stomach, it took few more days of ship riding before my brain finally adjusted to the rolling and pitching. I no longer needed to lose the contents of my stomach every now and then, allowing me to majestically stand on the deck of the vessel in all my glory and breathe in the saltiness of the sea.

I wasn't a fan of the smell of the sea, but the cabin was worse.

Still, it wasn't long before the next destination came into sight. The port city of Oldtown where the seat of House Hightower—a major vassal house in the Reach—resided as well as the Maester's Citadel. It was a trade port that was teeming in commerce, and part of that was from the trade routes with Essos. That part actually led to some goodwill on my behalf.

My connections with the red faith had opened some trade agreements with certain cities in Essos with the most prominent being Myr. However, to reach Lannisport, they had to go down under the southern tip of Westeros and follow the shoreline up to Lannisport. That meant that they had to stop by Dorne and the Reach to trade and resupply to finish the journey to Lannisport and back again. Therefore, part of the wealth that I was gaining leaked off to them.

Since Dorne was out of the question in regards to marriage candidates, the Reach was nice alternative, especially since the status and wealth of the Reach was second only to the Westerlands. Truthfully, we would have headed for House Tyrell, but House Hightower was on the way. It made sense to go here first. Besides, if we skip it, they would think worse of us when we come by afterwards. Not that I personally care, but Tywin wouldn't be remiss on that.

That was the thing about transmigration stories. Usually, the protagonist would be placed in a terrible situation where they would have to use their skills, wit, and cunning to magnificently show off their abilities as they better their lives. That would usually involve—for transmigration stories involving a start in nobility—incompetent parents that would force you to take over or be considered such a bad fruit that you would be disowned. However, that wasn't the case here, obviously. With Tywin around and my status as his heir, I really didn't have to do anything to live a easy life. Of course, it would also be a short life if I didn't do anything about the coming apocalypse. I wasn't too keen on that type of ending.

As I stood on the deck of the ship, watching how the blue ocean reflected the sparkle of the sunlight, I reflected on my life and reached no sort of enlightenment at all. Having not puke nor become a buddha, I was not filled with a sense of disappointment. Instead, I felt nothing.

As expected.

Sailing beside the ship were two warships, both flying Lannister flags. There was a need for protection since there were still pirates on the seas, though these areas were relatively safe unlike the Summer Sea near Dorne since Ironborn ships patrolled around here more frequently. Though, it would be careless to not to pay attention to nearby Ironborn ships. While Lord Quellon Greyjoy of the Ironborn had made reforms which included the banning of reaving, not all of his people were content to abide by his decision. Of course, these patrols came at a price. Just like the "protection" fees demanded by Yakuza, if the coastal regions didn't pay their regularly scheduled costs on time, I would imagine that they would let some "rebellious" Ironborn raiders remind them of that fact.

Still, I had a different type of worry to ponder about.

"Father, why the Reach?" I took a glance at the stoic man beside me. Standing tall and firm, Tywin didn't bother to turn his head as he gave his response.

"An alliance with the Reach is the most beneficial for the Westerland," Tywin simply said.

Left unsaid was that it was one of the more difficult regions to arrange a marriage alliance with. The Reach was the one of the most profitable territory in Westeros, second only to the Westerland. That was because they had an abundance of fertile land. Since they were positioned in the southern areas, they were relatively out of the conflict zones unlike the Riverlands so some of their architecture and infrastructure had been around for centuries. The Reach was actually split between three core powers. House Tyrell, House Tarly, and House Hightower. The only reason there wasn't more conflict was because House Tarly was subservient and House Hightower was unambitious. In return, House Tyrell did much to keep them appeased with the status quo.

"I expect you to conduct yourself as a proper Lannister," Tywin said. "The nobles and the rabble believe that you're a worshiper of that foreign religion. Taking an adherent to the Faith of the Seven as your wife will do much to dispel that. Lord Mace of House Tyrell has sisters whom you may wed."

"Wait, aren't we heading to Oldtown?"

"Yes, but a match is unlikely to be found in Oldtown. Lord Leyton of House Hightower prefers his children be wooed to marriage rather than be arranged. An unambitious lot, but it would not do to ignore them. They have much influence with the Faith of the Seven and the Order of the Maesters."

"The Starry Sept and the Citadel." I had almost forgotten they were located in Oldtown. The former used to be the seat of the High Septon and while it didn't carry as much importance anymore, it was still a cultural and religious landmark that held a good deal amount of power. The latter was the headquarters of the Maesters. It wouldn't be wrong to say that the Citadel was the biggest and most guarded library in Westeros with not even the King of the Seven Kingdoms being allowed further than the receptionist's desk. Or at least, that was how the books described both locations. I imagined that a King would get further than that.

"We will attend a prayer at the Starry Sept. You must act pious for the entirety of our stay at Oldtown."

I absentmindedly nodded my head. Arranged marriages. They were a pain and inevitable. It wasn't like I really believed in the notion of love or anything; I was more of a proponent of compatibility. The more you know and get along with someone, the more comfortable you would be with living your life with them. It wasn't the most glamorous like what romance movies would have you believe, but this was more in touch with my sense of reality. I was a realist; that was a fact. I wasn't comfortable with an arranged marriage because it was a forced option without much of a choice. That kind of thing usually started a negative relationship modifier, requiring numerous flags just to reach the starting point. Otherwise, they would secretly plot against you like that two-faced girl down in Dorne. Why a negative modifier? It was because of a lack of choice.

Even if your choice in spouse was horrible, it would still be your choice and acceptable therefore. You made your choice and you had to live in your mess.

Back in Japan, I had decided to be a househusband. At that time, I didn't know if I would be able to get a wife, considering how I looked even though the rest of my stats were above average. There was even a time I thought about ordering a mail-order Japanese bride from Brazil. Of course, I quickly put an end to that train of thought.

Of course.

It was that naive belief in choice despite it being the medieval age that led to princesses all over Westeros fleeing an arranged marriage and falling into the hands of deprived bandits to create situations that have been depicted in doujins. Okay, no, not really, though there were horror stories about that kind of thing happening, probably to dissuade those same kind of princesses from doing the same thing.

Point of the matter was that Tywin was dead-set on arranging a marriage for me and siblings. The only way out of that was to run away, and I was—thankfully—not stupid enough to do that.

Staring out at the endless blue waves, I sighed.

I would just have to deal with it.

~o~

A/N: Half the chapter is exposition!


	13. Interlude: Malora of House Hightower

Interlude: Malora of House Hightower

~o~

Men and their chivalry. I had been long disabused of the notion of knights and princesses. I was a maiden in the midst of my prime, yes, but the prime of one's life—for a woman—was at most a decade or two. Few grew gracefully with age and not for lack of trying. In these moments, women married and had a litter of children as they command their household. I could do more than just keeping the house in order. What was the point of getting married?

Men? I had my share or two of affairs, some lasting longer than others, but I had no wish to settle down, to have to gain the approval of my husband on every matter. At least here, in the comfort of my family, I had some modicum of control. Here, my father was the head of House Hightower, and he allowed my whims to go through. Here, I was surrounded by siblings whom loved me and supported me through my endeavors.

Even the most heretical ones.

I would never have such freedom to pursue my desires if I were married. In fact, if I were to leave the house, I would be constantly worried that Garth would make a mess of Oldtown. My silly brother was the heir, but all that boy had in his head was of swords and…well, just swords. If he were to manage the city by himself, it would probably take him half a moon to run Oldtown into the ground. Father, of course, agreed with me, even though he still kept trying to find matches for me.

For that reason, time and again, I shamed one marriage candidate after another. They called me mad, and perhaps, I was for desiring my interests over my future. Few would willingly choose the same path as me. It was made easier by the fact that I was hardly the prettiest of my father's daughters; the honor of that belonged to one of my younger sisters. She had plenty of suitors that would offer up the world for her, but she never showed any interest. If my father wasn't so lenient with her and her tomboyish act, she would have been married off even before her flowering. Alas, that same behavior allowed me to keep the lifestyle that I had right now so I couldn't complain.

Today was just another repetition of that.

House Lannister had come for a visit, and none could turn them away. Not without repercussions. Still, this was merely a short stop before they head further south, most likely to House Tyrell or House to garner up a match for their most prestigious of heirs. I couldn't imagine they would forgive House Martell so quickly, and you simply could not approach House Baratheon by sea easily. For any of the other Great Houses, traveling by land would be far simpler.

While my family may not be of the Great Houses, we were still prominent enough that, should House Tyrell fall, none would contest our ascension. Well, none save House Tarly, but they are a wooden lot; I had no doubt they would eventually be tided over or burned to a crisp.

Still, it was obvious that these Lannisters' aim weren't for here. That was why there wasn't much emphasis on the feast that we threw for them. Obviously, some girls with more air in her head than sense would try to seduce the heir. And try, they did, though not to much avail.

When I saw him for the first time, I thought he was a pale imitation of his family. It was true that he looked like a Lannister with his blond hair and handsome features. However, his eyes…his pupils were small and flat, like that of a fish. The Seven forbid, I had enough of looking at fishes to last a lifetime; it was hard not to when one lived in a port city. Moreover, he slouched as he walked, and I feared that if he went any lower, he would become a hunchback. His demeanor was apathetic, disinterested in his surroundings and the people around him.

I didn't like him. He was a slovenly boy. When he sat at the table and ate in that slow, disinterested manner, paying not an iota of his attention to anyone around him as his eyes constantly wandered back down to his plate, almost as if he had to make a conscious effort to look up and around, I had to admit that I felt insulted. My first thought was that the rumors were vastly overstated.

Was this really the child I had heard about? The one praised for his genius and wisdom?

Then I heard him speak.

Someone, I didn't know who, had asked him a question: "I have heard that you have designed a thinner, clearer parchment. Pray tell, will you not share with us the method to produce this miracle parchment?" It was a reasonable one, considering that this was the land of Maesters. As we had a few of them in attendance, I imagined that one of them asked in regards to that. However, I never imagined that this would be his reply.

"I don't mind."

For a moment, those in attendance were stricken with silence. Even I felt my tongue get caught in my throat. Who would imagine that someone would simply give such a priceless method away? If it were her, she would have kept it a secret for as long as possible and have the Seven Kingdoms buy it exclusively from her. The amount of gold dragons that it alone would produce for House Hightower would be enough to raise them to be on par with the Great Houses. Well, maybe that was overly optimistic, but such a recipe would undoubtedly bring riches.

"…and what would you like in return, young Lord?"

"Nothing."

By this time, more people in the dining hall took notice of the conversation, even though the hall was still mostly filled with greater chatter. While the whispers of those nearby were of abundance, there was naught a face that did not display some form of skepticism, for this was simply madness. If you were to ask me at this moment, I would say that he was born with the blood of the Targaryens running through his veins.

"Now, young Lord, I may not be the wisest when it comes to mercantile matters, but even I'd balk at giving nothing for such a boon." Even with his righteous sounding words, I could hear greed on the edge of his voice. Cautious greed. I knew what he was thinking. If he could turn it into a private deal, the information would go to him alone.

"I don't need it."

For a moment, the man frowned, but just as quickly, a smile lighted on his face once more. "I'll certainly not reject such charity, but pray tell us the reason for your benevolence."

The young heir of the Lannister frowned, as if finding the matter tedious. I was curious too so I leaned in more. Perhaps, that was why, even through the loud boosting and laughter that filled the rest of the hall, I was able to hear faintly what he said under his breath.

"Zaimokuza better be right."

The words evaded my understanding, but I had no more time to dwell on it as he began speaking louder, enough for us to hear over the hubbub.

"Knowledge is power. I think most of you know that by now. However, what you may not have considered is that knowledge is a contagious infection that mutates as it goes along. The more you spread knowledge, the more you gain knowledge," he said. I reeled from his words. Infection? Isn't that calling it malicious? "I don't mean that in a bad way. It's like a beneficial plague with several stages of infection. Quiet down a little so I can explain. Take for example, Asshai. Not much knowledge is known about the nation, but if I were to teach what I knew to a hundred people, then those hundred teach a hundred each, then more and more people would know about Asshai. However, this is a limited amount of information. Eventually, some people from those that have been taught will want to go to Asshai.

"Those who do may eventually come back and bring the new knowledge they carry back to me. So now, I have more information about Asshai than I did before, and I would teach this new information to the original hundred and let this new piece of information drip down the chain. Thus, more would be interested in Asshai and make more trips, bringing back more knowledge. In the end, those closest to the epicenter of this information wave like myself would receive the most knowledge about Asshai. And that is without having to visit Asshai myself.

"But let me give a simpler example. Let's take a math problem. Twelve divided by three. Let's say I don't know the answer, but if I ask a dozen people and share what I know, maybe one of them know the answer. If they don't, I can ask a dozen more people until I find someone who knows. But what if no one knows in the entire world? I asked a hundred people so those hundred people would work on the problem and maybe one of them would eventually figure it out. A thousand minds working on one problem is better than a single one, but they must all have the same base level of knowledge and work together to combine their intelligence and wisdom in figuring out the problem. If they work separately, it would be just as bad as a single mind working on the problem. Do you understand what I mean now? Hm? Well, let me simplify it further then.

"The more you spread knowledge, the more you gain knowledge."

I had to admit, he was intelligent. Most who heard his words would think that he was praising the Maester's institution, but I felt he was saying the opposite. His message was probably that knowledge should be free for anyone to learn, and the more minds that did, the more easier it would be for problems of the world to be solved. That caught my attention more than anything. Still, a silly urge came to me. I wanted to bring him down a peg or two, perhaps three if I could manage it. So I waltzed up the little child and asked, "How'd you spread knowledge?"

If he had said something like "by teaching," then I would have mocked him relentlessly. How was it different from a Maester? It would be the same, ineffectual as it was at bringing in more knowledge. And that would have been the end of the story.

Of course, that wasn't what happened.

"Paper."

His words… If there weren't enough teachers, why not replace them with books? The reason was obvious to everyone listening; it would simply be too expensive. However, when he told us of the ease that his paper—made of wood that could be found almost everywhere instead of animal skin—could be afforded by even the most common of peasants, I was astounded. That was when I understood his implication. If paper were cheap, then wouldn't copies of books be far more widespread than it was now? However, this was the only beginning of his monologue.

If paper and books were easier to get and maintain, why not build another learning institute that would be a repository of such books, similar to the Citadel?

The ideas he told—of mandatory education and an organized institution of learning for children, not just for the nobles and the wealthy—were shocking. I daresay that not even a Grand Maester could have come up with such a fantastical idea. What I found especially novel was the idea of a homeroom teacher, someone that not only teaches a subject but manages the overall welfare of the students. However, these were just that, a dreamer's ideas. Something left up to the fantasy of idle men and fiction.

Until he told me of the plans surrounding the ideas. The finances, the logistics, how it would be managed, how it would pay itself off—in both money and loyalty. The loyalty of the Maesters to the Citadel was evident, but to put that on a scale of a city as large as Lannisport? It was a massive project, and I even told him so, but he shook his head in response.

"This is just a prototype. I want these schools to be built and maintained all across Westeros," Hachi said. "It doesn't matter if they were born as a noble or a commoner; everyone deserves a chance, to make their mark on the world."

I felt weak, as if my knees would give out if I hadn't been sitting down. It made my mouth feel dry from the implication, a solution that would turn the world on its head.

I understood now. I finally understood why they called him a genius. My hands tingled with excitement.

He would change the world. There was no proof of it, but it felt undeniable.

This…he was my destiny.

It felt like we had the same type of mindset, that if I talked to him about everything about me, the good and bad, he would accept me regardless. Maybe I was rushing, but I felt that I needed to act on it.

I turned to father, Lord Leyton Hightower, who stood next to me and touched his arm.

"What is it, Malora?"

"He's amazing, isn't he?" I began slowly, to ease into what I wanted to say.

"A very bright child, yes," father said. "He'll be a good match for Lynesse."

No!

"Lynesse is a young and beautiful child," I said slowly, deliberately slow. "A match for her will not be hard. I, on the other hand…"

"Ah, suggesting a better match then? I see your point, fair child. Which of your sisters do you nominate?"

"I wouldn't be opposed…"

"Go on," he prompted. "Wouldn't be opposed to which sister?"

"Well, that…it wouldn't be a sister, necessarily…"

"A cousin then? I do not believe that the Lannisters will be amendable to a wife from a branch family."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Then who?"

"That's… It's… Agh! You're impossible, father!"

"What did I do?"

"Can't you understand?!"

"Not if you do not tell me," he said in exasperation. "Well, spit it out, girl."

"Me!" I shouted. "I want to him to marry me!"

It was only when he didn't respond that I noticed the room was eerily quiet. Glancing around, I saw the eyes of everyone in the room on me. It was only then that I realized that, in my agitation, I had shouted that out to everyone in the room. My face turned as red as a tomato, even as I felt like fainting out of embarrassment.

Then the Lannister heir, Hachi, walked up to me. He was a boy a decade younger than me so his head barely reached my bosom. His face looked up at me, and I held my breath. It took him a far bit of time, his face seemingly conflicted as if he was struggling with himself.

"Um, maybe we should get to know each other firs—whoa!"

He caught my hand as I fainted. I had held my breath for too long.

~o~

A/N: Will release next chapter in a couple of days. Just need to touch it up.

I came back because Moviepass is pretty much dead. The dream is dead.

Nah, I was stuck on A-kun for awhile. Even wrote a story on there. Then just kind of floundered around. It didn't help that the Game of Thrones episodes after it went beyond the books were flawed that I couldn't even finish watching that season.

I have tons of excuses why I was gone for so long, but I guess it mainly came down to not being inspired until I re-read the first volume of Yahari. My schedule for releases isn't going to be steady, especially since I need to regain my lost touch. Honestly, I wanted to release a full chapter for my return, but the interlude was necessarily for the next part and what I was working on before I went on hiatus.

Also, special thanks to Vahn and Vad. Thanks, guys. Still bugging me to write even after a year.


	14. Chapter 12: Misconception

Chapter 12: Misconception

~o~

I went against the flow, calmly—sluggishly—moving as I did while ladies and gentlemen walked passed me to head to the main hall where a daughter of the lord of the castle had fainted. Everyone wanted to see the commotion, and that chaos allowed me to slip away. I had grabbed an overcoat from a Lannister noble and wore it in such a way that the fineries of my clothes were only visible in the front, not enough for nobles to notice me but at just the right angle that the servants wouldn't stop me. Without the obvious glare of golden lion embroideries on red cloth, I wasn't so obvious to attract attention as I made my way through the hallway.

Stealth Hikki. It was a technique that I had created in my past life after meditating for weeks on my unpopularity and turning it into a sharpened weapon of mass destruction. The ingenuity of this awe-inspiring technique was that it didn't rely on sticking to the shadows like an assassin. It instead focused on walking in plain sight. Walking with a purposeful but steady gait, not too fast to draw eyes but not too slow to seem out of place; retaining a bored but forward-seeing expression that one would only spare a glance at and never meeting eye-contact by skillful timing of shutting your eyes; and suppressing your presence through a compression of your profile, leaning forward to appear as a person more used to bowing and back-breaking work, thus lowering your status on the totem pole of society's hierarchy. Only through simultaneous application of all these skills could one achieve the technique of Stealh Hikki. No, it would be more wiser to call it a state of being, an ethereal phase akin to enlightenment and—

"E-excuse me?"

I stopped. Even though they had pierced through the veil of my concealment, I was prepared; one always had to be prepared for all scenarios by having a repertoire of excuses such as getting lost while trying to find the restroom. As I turned around, the words on my lips turned to dust. My mouth dried up, and I was left staring at what could only be the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. Picturesque eyebrows, drawn on a small, perfect face that was partially by a stock of short, silken hair that glistened in the torchlight. Wide gray eyes stared at me, full of passion, while the slightly troubled smile that laid on supple lips made a delightful shiver run down my spine. It was a face and an expression that seemed so out of this world that my breath was taken away. My heart was trembling. It had been a long time since I was so moved. There was only one problem.

She…or he was wearing a male tunic.

"You…" I pretended to cough into my fist, trying to regain my composure. "Did you need me for something?"

"Do you…" She—he paused momentarily with illusionary flowers framing her—him in the background. "Do you know what a Hikigaya is?"

"Oi! Don't say my family name like it's an ob…ject…? Wait, how do you know that name?!"

"It is you!" She—he clapped her—his hands excitedly. Damn it, was he an actually girl or not?! Wait, this wasn't the time to debate that. Didn't she—he say something earth-shattering just now?

"Who are you?"

"It's me," the gender anomaly said. "Totsuka Saika."

That thunderous name echoed in my ears. Totsuka Saika. The sole flower of my grade, the healing balm of the school. Back then, he was so supernaturally cute that, despite being male, he could be considered the most blossoming flower of the entire school. A flower where, even though you knew he was a venus flytrap, his sweet scent had sent an entire classroom into confusion. Indeed, there were many occasions that I had nearly went down the wrong path because of him.

As I stared at him now, dressed in a male tunic, I felt the corruption of the world once again. Why?! Why did he have to be born male? Was there no justice in the universe?

"I'm not." Totsuka frowned, but even frowning, he was unbearably cute. What was this woodland creature? "I'm a girl now, but I have the heart of a man!"

I take it all back. There is justice in this world. Is this the will of Stein's Gate?!

"That's great." I dropped my hands onto her shoulder. "Marry me?"

"No!" Totsuka blushed heavily as she turned her head to the side. "I'm…I'm a man!"

"But you're physically female, right?"

"I'm a man at heart!"

"Then everything is—"

I felt something hit my stomach and looked down. There was dagger stabbed into where my belly was. The hands that were holding it were dainty and could only belong to the person in front of me.

"Totsuka…"

This would have been more dramatic, with far more feelings of betrayal, if it wasn't for the fact that she couldn't push the dagger's blade past the chainmail and leather jerkin I wore, hidden underneath my clothes. As it was, the tip didn't even touch my skin. She grunted as she made a show of putting her weight behind the dagger, but there didn't seem to be any visible results.

"What are you doing, Totsuka?"

"Stop resisting!" Even as she grunted from her exertion of effort, she had tears at the corners of her eyes, moving my heart more than it was moving her dagger. Not that I was resisting at all in the first place; the leather and chainmail was doing all the work. "If I kill you, we can go back home."

"Home?"

"Japan!" Totsuka was still on the verge of tears. I really couldn't bring my sight away. "We can all be together again with everyone, and I'll be a boy again."

"Who told you this?"

"The…the old lady who brought me here," Totsuka said. "She said you weren't supposed to be here, but if I killed you, she would send both of us back."

"And you believed her? How do you know she wasn't lying?"

"She brought me here!" Totsuka finally released the dagger, letting it dangle off my clothes as if it was an actor's prop. "She said she chose me because I defeated you many times. I don't remember doing that, but if it brought you home, I was willing to do it."

Well, that old woman certainly wasn't wrong, just not in the way she was thinking of. Just what kind of half-assed method was she using? Was it a divination ritual to find the one who had beaten me countless times? Find my arch nemesis? Well, it was true on both accounts; I had never won against Totsuka.

I pulled out the dagger. It was ritualistic looking, but there wasn't even blood on the tip. Truly, the only person who could defeat Totsuka was Totsuka herself.

"Wording is important. From what it sounds like, she was probably going to send us back, but she wouldn't be resurrecting us in the process. We would still be dead."

"No way…" Totsuka collapsed onto her knees, her eyes turning hollow as tears freely flowed down.

Huh…

That was sort of unexpected. She trusted me so much that she immediately believed my speculation as truth and fact. I even prefaced it with "from what it sounds like" to make sure it didn't go that way, but she didn't seem to even notice it. As expected of Totsuka?

"Oi, come on. Get up before someone sees. There's already enough rumors going around about me after earlier." I reached out a hand. Totsuka hesitated for a moment before grabbing it, letting me pull her up. After she was standing, I used my thumb to wipe the tear trails on her cheek. "If you come out looking like—"

Wait, what was I doing? I quickly retracted my hand as I felt my cheeks heat up.

"S-sorry about that."

"It's okay." Totsuka wiped her cheeks and eyes with her sleeves, a smile on her lips. "I guess it'd look bad if dad saw you cause two of his dau—children trouble."

"What? Dad?"

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself." Totsuka tried her best to do a manly bow, but it looked more like a cute imitation than anything else. "I'm Sasha of House Hightower. That girl from before was my sister, Malora."

"H-Hachi Lannister," I said distractedly. So that other girl was a Hightower too. This was going to be troublesome.

"You mean Hachi of House Lannister," Totsuka said with a giggle on the end. She pressed her fingers together and tilted her head.

"…right." The feminine power of Totsuka was too much to behold. "Marry me?"

"Stop joking, Hachiman. I'm still a man."

"Right, a joke." I felt like crying on the inside. "I wonder if you can see Zaimokuza."

"Oh, he's here too?" Totsuka clapped her hands together. "Where is he?"

"Just need a torch."

~o~

Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I was alone with Totsuka in a bedroom. Or more specifically, Totsuka's bedroom. If there was anything that could convince me that she was girl, it was this room. There were embroideries that were hanging on the wall, plush dolls filled with what I hoped were feathers, and a bed filled with frills and a curtained canopy. Yep, this was definitely Totsuka's bedroom. Though, it did have less tennis memorabilia than I thought. Well, considering that tennis didn't exist here, it was reasonable enough, but was a Totsuka without tennis really a Totsuka?

I took a glance to the cute, petite, tunic-wearing girl sitting next to me on the bed. Yes, yes, she was Totsuka. No doubt about that. Absolutely no doubt.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, more just to say something rather than to get confirmation.

"I'm ready," Totsuka said with a determined look on her face. This expression was good too.

"Then here we go." I reached over…

…and lit the small brazier sitting on the table in front of us. Fire emanated from my palm, setting the bowl ablaze.

"So cool!" Totsuka was staring at my hand with a sparkle in her eyes.

Showing off had never been so rewarding. Before I could say anything, the flames began to consolidate into a more solid head.

"Cool?" The flaming head came with puffy cheeks and rectangular glasses. "Is that Totsuka I hear?!"

"So you don't know about this?" I pointed my thumb at Totsuka.

"Wow! This is so cool!" Totsuka clapped her hands excitedly. "Hachiman said that I might not be able to see or hear you, but I can."

I know nothing about this. I swear," Zaimokuza said. Well, this confirmed it. Totsuka could hear Zaimokuza when others couldn't, even Melisandre. Was it because we had been touched by the magical and the divine? "Besides, if it was my choice, I'd have chosen someone who could help out more like Yukinoshita."

"Which sister?" I asked.

"Either one."

Yukino was somewhat manageable, but imagining Haruno being here would probably ruin me. In more ways than one.

"Now!" A finger made of flame appeared in front of Zaimokuza's flaming face. He pointed at Totsuka. "Reveal thy origins!"

"Ah? W-well, it all began when…"

Usually, this would be the part where I summary the overly long monologue into a few bite-sized sentences. However, this was not the case this time. The reason for that was because I was distracted by Totsuka's cuteness. Her overly emotional expressions that seemed to border on exaggeration as she practically relived the entire experience was the cause of many cuteness-induced mental overloads. Had I been a lesser man than who I was, I would have overheated and fainted on the spot. Therefore, I had to have Zaimokuza retell the story to me since he was somehow immune to Totsuka's overwhelming charm. Probably on account of him being the magical equivalent of a god.

"So our androgynous friend, Ranmaru—"

"That's not his name."

"Totsuka Saika," Zaimokuza corrected. "He was visited by an old decrepit lady. And I mean decrepit like crazy. More bone than bags. Liver spots on the skin, wizened face, crow feet around the eyes—"

"Focus."

"Right, right. So she was carrying a lantern. Not a modern lantern, but one from the medieval ages. The type you see around here."

"Zaimokuza…"

"I'm getting to it." He waved a flaming hand, as if to wave away my interruptions. "She's the old Crone. The lantern is her symbol."

"That seems…a bit too obvious."

"The Crone is wise enough that she knows it'd be pointless to hide; she would have been seen by too many Earth gods on the way in. I'll check with some gods and goddesses just to make sure," Zaimokuza said. "Her worshipers say that she's old and wise, but I'm older than her. Though more handsome than her. And suave. With roguish good looks and a flair for the—"

"Stop. Get on topic, Zaimokuza." If I didn't interrupt him now, I had a feeling he would go on for at least a few more minutes. "Besides, where can you find a woman who is handsome and suave with roguish good looks? It's hard to find woman with more of those qualities since those are terms to describe a guy."

"I believe in gender equality."

"That doesn't apply to language."

There was a retort coming, but a giggle from Totsuka stopped us both in our tracks. Glancing over, I saw Totsuka smiling wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"This reminds me of all the fun times we had at the club with everyone." After a moment, her smile began to fade. "Do you think that we'll get home?"

I was tongue-tied just from looking at her expression. As much as I wanted to protect Totsuka's smile, I couldn't lie about this. Not about this. I gave a glance at the somber expression on Zaimokuza's flaming face, and he nodded solemnly in return.

"It's not possible." The silence that followed his silence was deafening. I glanced worriedly at Totsuka. "Well, actually, it is kind of possible."

"Wait, what?!" My head spun to him so fast that it felt like it was going to fly off my neck. "Why didn't you tell me of this?!"

"Because convincing the gods and goddesses to let you back in is almost impossible," Zaimokuza said. "It only takes one of them to bring you in, but the rest of them won't let it slide. It isn't the first time it has happened, and when it does, that person would cause an upheaval with their supernatural ability or magic. Now, the gods of Earth are wary enough that once you're in, most of them will try to kill you. I could maybe convince or bribe a good portion of them, but all of them? That's too hard. If you go back, you wouldn't have a peaceful life."

"No way…" Totsuka collapsed on her knees. "That can't be…"

I turned away. I wasn't strong enough to face her crying face. If I kept looking at it, I would probably do something stupid, something I would regret.

"Will we ever see them again?" Totsuka's hopeful tone made me grit my teeth.

"I could pull them over with a little more power, but do you really want to bring them here? This world isn't a good place to live in."

"You brought me here," I said.

"What? You want me to let you die young and be washed away into the wheel of reincarnation? That'd have been a waste!" A flaming fist appeared in front of Zaimokuza, thrusting up. "The best friend of a grand god like me is meant for greater things than being reborn without your memories as the spoiled daughter of a hospital tycoon."

"Wait, I was going to be reincarnated as a girl? How would you even know that?"

"I think you'd look pretty as a girl," Totsuka chipped in.

"I may have spent a little extra prayer power under the table to check out where you were headed to. Just a little tiny bit extra."

"…how much extra?"

"You worry too much about the future! All that matters is the present." Zaimokuza subtly turned his eyes away. "…except for the zombie apocalypse, of course."

"Of course," I deadpanned. After a moment, I sighed. There was only so much Zaimokuza I could take in a day. "So what about Totsuka?

"Huh? What about me?" Totsuka cutely looked up from where she was sitting with those curious doe eyes. T-too moe. How could someone be so entrancing without even trying to was something that I would never understand.

"…just trying to figure out what we should do now."

"Before that, we have to figure out her purpose in full. That old Crone is supposed to be the embodiment of wisdom, but if she thinks going against me is wise, she'll have another thing coming to her." Zaimokuza turned to Totsuka. "How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"So just one year younger than Hikigaya. That means in the span of one year, she found out about you and sent an assassin. Well, time isn't synchronized between the two realms so there might be some issues with that, but it works." Zaimokuza paused. "…in a roundabout way. She could have sent a zealot, but instead, she took Totsuka from the other world and reincarnated him—her. Unless…" He snapped his flaming fingers. How flames could produce a snap sound was beyond me. "She didn't know who you are here, Hachiman. I mean, she knew who you were in the other world—probably bribed the same god I bribed—but she couldn't find you here so she found someone you knew. Someone who could recognize you."

Could it really be that convenient? Well, I couldn't really think of anything to poke holes into that theory, though I was more surprised that he managed to think it up in the first place. He must have noticed my confusion because he smirked.

"I'm like a detective now. I should call myself Z to protect my identity, otherwise they might write my name in a black notebook."

"I don't even know what you're referencing now."

"Meh, it doesn't matter. I suppose being a god is better than being a detective anyways." Zaimokuza glanced at Totsuka, ignoring the fact that both classifications were not mutually exclusive. "Have you had any contact with that old Crone since then?"

Totsuka shook her head.

"Then you're a throwaway piece. She's not expecting much from you except for finding Hachiman." Zaimokuza tapped his flaming chin. "I have to turn the chessboard around." A fiery chessboard appeared with all the pieces already arranged on the board. The fact that they were all orange-red from the flame made it impossible to figure out which side was black and which side was white. With a wave of his hand, the chessboard spun around, which didn't really change anything since they were all of the same color. "If Hachiman is my Queen—"

"Hey!" It was more than a little disturbing, in light of the fact that I was supposed to be reincarnated as a female.

"Yeah, you're right. You can't really fight like a Queen. I guess you're the King since you have people and money to fight for you."

Just because I hadn't been practicing my spear-fighting didn't mean that I was helpless. Still, that was only my internal grumbles since I really couldn't voice that out without it sounding as if I actually was that helpless. Which, in a way, was sort of true.

"Totsuka would be a knight, hopping around everywhere in the hopes of finding something."

"You…don't know how to play chess, do you?"

"I did learn how to play," Zaimokuza protested. "I even bought a chess set with all the pieces being battleship girls."

"Have you ever actually played with anyone?"

"Does playing against myself count?

"No."

"Then no."

"I'll play with you," Totsuka charitably said.

"A god does not need pity!" Zaimokuza shouted, flinging out his flaming hands and flipping the chessboard over. The pieces were stuck on the fiery board, even upside down. He then, calmly and quietly, flipped it right-side up. "But I'll accept it because you're cute."

"If your followers heard that, they would be spitting out blood," I said.

"Well, it's a good thing only reincarnators can hear me! That means I can say whatever I want." He began to laugh uproariously.

"I don't see a difference from how you usually act."

"It's the spirit of it, Hachiman! The spirit!" Zaimokuza swung his fist upward again.

"How did we even get on this topic?" Every time I speak to Zaimokuza, everything always seemed to spiral into nonsense. Nonetheless, there was a sense of nostalgia tinged with it, that reminded of my old life. In a way, it helped me keep a sense of myself alive, that part of me that was Hikigaya Hachiman rather than Hachi Lannister. "What do we do about the Crone?"

If I thought about it logically, there was not much that could be done. The Crone was only one of the Seven so if they outright retaliated against her, the other six would get involved. Still, by the response so far, it was more like she was responding to the intrusion on her territory. After all, the only stronghold of the Seven was in Westeros. The rest of the world believed in different religions, one of the more prominent ones being the Red Faith. The potential ramifications of a religious war would be tremendous, similar enough in scale to a inter-continental invasion. That would be terrible even without the threat of a zombie apocalypse hanging over our heads. That meant that the only thing we could do was just to be vigilant—

"I'll just talk to her," Zaimokuza said with a casual wave of her hand. "I could probably get her to back off if I promise her a date."

What.

"I know that look, but don't worry. She doesn't always look like an old lady. She can change her form too."

"That wasn't what I was thinking about!"

Zaimokuza stared at me through his flame image with practically question marks all over his face. Totsuka was the same. I could ignore the godly chuunibyou, but I couldn't ignore Totsuka.

"If you knew about this, why didn't you take care of it before?"

"Because I'm as pure and unsullied as snow."

"For thousands of years? I can see why you're a god now."

"I'll have you know that I'm popular! Even the Maiden once flirted with me."

"Did she?" I asked skeptically.

"Indeed, she did! But the Crone found out and scared her away." Zaimokuza let out a sigh which came out as a puff of smoke. "She's not only a stalker but also the yandere type." He shook his flaming head in resignation. "You wouldn't believe how creepy her shrine of me is, and she always had a jealousy streak against the Maiden. Still, after my time in Japan, I feel that I have become more tolerant of that kind of thing…"

I stared blankly at him.

"Still, we're talking about gods and goddesses here. This isn't like mortal relationships; this is eternity we're talking about here. Once I give in, there's no coming back." Zaimokuza rubbed his chin. "Then again, I could pull a Zeus and play with mortals, but I was never really into harems. There's not enough character development when you have too many love interests vying for screen time."

I didn't want to even process what he was saying, but I did anyways. Maybe that was why I could feel the expression on my face dropping with every moment his mouth was flapping.

"There can be only one true pairing. In that case, the more deviant it is, the better. The main pairing is usually super normal and therefore, uninteresting. It's the crazy side characters that invoke sympathy and interests. In that sense, the old Crone may be the best pairing of all…!" Zaimokuza was holding his flaming head with his disembodied hands, as if reeling from the revelation.

"Just… Do whatever you want," I finally said. "I don't need more trouble from her."

"Trust me. When I'm through, she'll be helping us," Zaimokuza said confidently. "Or at least, she'll keep the other six busy. She's not called wise for nothing, though she's not as wise as me."

"…I am beginning to think this is a bad plan."

"Trust me."

I could already tell that this wouldn't end well.

After that, there were a few more things that were discussed, but it was mostly just to update Totsuka on the situation with the world. In the end, I cited my tiredness and headed back to my bedroom, even as they continued their discussion.

~o~

I was standing on the balcony outside the guest bedroom that I had been assigned, looking out at the sight. While it couldn't compare to a sight that you might see from the Tokyo Tower, the fact that there were still torches about in the buildings beyond gave it a scenic view. Not that I was paying attention to it; I had far too much on my mind. About the world and about me.

People were not made to care about a number of people greater than ten at one time. That was just required too much empathy. The best kind of person in the sort of position needed to save everyone from a zombie apocalypse would be someone that could view humans as a statistic, but I…

I couldn't do that.

I wasn't a chuunibyou. I didn't have the grand illusion that I could save everyone, that I could push humanity through to survival.

That was why I was glad when I found out that there was another one, another person that made the journey to this world. Glad that I wasn't alone.

And then I was disappointed that it was Totsuka.

Despite the fact that I knew I should have been glad, I couldn't help but think that Yukinoshita would have been better. If it was her, I could off-load all my worries and stress, all this workload of saving the world. I wasn't made for this. I wasn't made to deal with the fate of the world on my shoulders. Even though it would be decades from now and it still felt far away, I knew that time was relative to perception. If I didn't do anything now, then nothing would happen in the future. Everyone that I know would die horrible deaths. Zombies taking a bite out of you wasn't the most ideal way to go.

I wasn't made for this. Years ago, I had already started numerous threads that would sprout and blossom in time. In spite of that, I felt doubt with myself. Could I see this through to the end? If I closed my eyes, I could imagine a little girl getting a bite taken out of her by her zombie father. The thought disgusted me, and yet, even if I did all that I could, some scenes like that would definitely happen regardless. Could I just write them off as numbers? As part of the statistical death toll? I couldn't. Even if they were on the other side of this continent, I wouldn't be able to look at them as another plus one on a chart. Humanity would win if there was a big enough portion left that they could repopulate the world, but in my eyes, that was too small of a number.

Maybe it was my gamer nature, that part that urged me to reload a save if even one of my party members died, that wanted to get a perfect rating, to have no one die.

It was that same nature that made me wholly unsuitable for this task.

This job.

I was only a high school student, reincarnated into a place with such a lower standard of education that it made elementary students seem like scholars. For me, a loner who was on the edge of becoming a NEET, could any task be as unsuitable for me as this one? If Yukinoshita was here, she would have been able to handle it.

She would be willing to sacrifice the few for the many. She would be able to do what needed to be done.

And it would break her.

My hands tightened into fists.

I knew. I knew that despite the strong front that she put on, she was one of the most fragile; this would destroy her. Could I condemn her to such a fate?

I was clenching my fists so tightly that, if this was an anime, my fingernails would have cut into my palm to make them bleed or my knuckles would have whitened. However, this wasn't a fantasy that I could get lost in; this was reality. This was my world now, and if I didn't do anything, one of the next casualties could be Totsuka.

Fact of the matter was, Totsuka couldn't help me. If there was a worst person for this job, it would be her.

Of course, I had to use her. The food production of Old Town was not to be underestimated, and yet, I also doubted she had much—if any—control over it. She was so far down the line of children that it was impossible, and that wasn't even accounting for the fact that she was born female in this world. Not to mention that Old Town was the center of a religious movement that was in opposition to the Red Faith. That limited how much I could influence such a place.

In the end, there was no benefit to taking her as my wife.

Even though I wanted so much to protect her smile. Even though I knew she may eventually be forced into a relationship. Even though… Even though…!

What do I do?

What was I supposed to do?

Was I even supposed to do anything? It wasn't like Totsuka had any feelings for me.

Should I even do anything? I shouldn't, should I?

Or rather, I didn't have the confidence to try anything. What held me back before was that Totsuka was a boy. My mental conversation would go like this:

"Cuter than any girl."

"…but he's a guy."

"With a mannerism that is intensely feminine."

"…but he's a guy."

"With a body so slender that you can't help but try to protect it."

"…but he's a guy."

"It's incredibly hot today."

"…but he's a guy."

I no longer had this excuse. In that sense, I should be doing something about it, but…

I opened my eyes and stared out at the sight before me.

If Totsuka had been a girl back in Japan, would I have confessed to her?

The answer is no.

The cuter and more beautiful they were, the further out of reach they were. That was an universal ratio, one that could only be undercut by money and luck. Of course, I had gold, but I wasn't about to force Totsuka into something like this.

More than that, I had a larger stake in this world now. With how the Westerlands was situated, if I fail to hold the line against the Walkers, there was no question to what the fate of the Reach would be. If that happened, then Totsuka…

I closed my eyes. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but even before Totsuka entered the picture, I was already resolved to do something about it. It was just that it now felt more imperative, more closer to home if that made any sense. It was a bit callous, since that was essentially ignoring the existence of my family and the people under my house's rule, but I couldn't help feeling that way. Totsuka felt like a piece of my home in Japan, and that one thought was enough to feel precious. If it had been another countryman, would I have felt the same? If it had been Hayama, would I—

Nah, that riajuu should just go get bitten by a zombie. After all, it was always those conceited, ridiculously good-looking Justice-talkers who always die first in a zombie apocalypse. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be the first, second, and third casualty.

The problems with trying to reform everything to make it better suited to repel an invasion by the Others was the fact that I wasn't in a good position to do so and I wasn't the right person for the job. What I needed was power and authority. In any good transmigration light novel, the one with higher authority was usually incompetent. For example, a king that was a failure at ruling and thus ceded his throne to the summoned hero. Or perhaps a family head that simply nodded his head and allowed any reform to go through, knowing that he was inferior to his descendant. That simply wasn't the case here.

The problem was that Tywin Lannister was just too good, too excellent in what he does. Even if I somehow appeared more excellent than him, I would simply be viewed as a prodigal son; I would never be someone with higher authority than him. Therefore, he would scrutinize my actions and proposals, rejecting them on the slightest thing that he may deem a "flaw." Even when he would allow something to go through, he would only allow it to be implemented on a smaller scale, to see if it actually would work. The fact that it could take years, especially for something related to crops, made this a tedious endeavor. This tied my hands greatly.

The second issue was that I wasn't suited for the job. I wasn't a leader. I wasn't someone who could get people to follow me through the power of my charisma and words. In fact, it was more likely that I would make them my enemies. If I had neither power nor money, I doubted they would pay attention to me. As such, I would not be able to gather talent.

It would be impossible for me to make changes, to see them all carried out in accordance with my wishes, if I could not get able people who I could trust to oversee it all. To an extent, money could help, but those that could be bought with money were not ones who could be trusted. All it would take would be one well-placed betrayal, and my house of cards would fall.

Haven't I read all those news stories of those players in MMORPGs who rise up to vice guild leader position and then proceed to steal everything in their guild's treasury?

I didn't have the charisma or the force of personality to bring people of talent to me nor retain their loyalty. All I had was money, and that would only go so far. There was a limit to what temporary help money could buy, and there was a limit to what I could do alone.

"Are you sulking again, Hachiman?"

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Turning around, I found Totsuka standing in the middle of my room. It was obvious that the guards had let her in—and it was obvious what they had been thinking. Rumors would be going around, especially since a lady of noble birth had entered privately into the bedroom of a gentleman of noble birth. Knowing Totsuka, she probably didn't even take that into account. She walked up to the balcony I was leaning my back on and looked out. I turned to see if there was something out of the ordinary, but it was the same scenery as before.

"You always do that," Totsuka said, voice full of nostalgia. "Only relying on yourself. Carrying the burden and the backlash by yourself."

I didn't reply as I pursed my lips.

"You work to solve problems. More than that, you succeed at solving them." Totsuka's tone became wistful as her eyes cast downward. "But you always pay the price, whatever the cost, by yourself."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I'm here." Totsuka turned to me and pressed a hand to her chest. "You don't have to do this alone."

"If we go by your logic, then the price would be too much for two people," I responded. "The math doesn't add up. If you are going to multiply by zero, the number in the equation won't matter. Why sacrifice two people when one person would work out better?"

"Hachiman…" Totsuka stared up at me with unshed tears in the corner of her eyes. The sight was too much for me so I turned my gaze away. Just a glance was enough to shake my willpower.

"Don't look at me like that. It's better to have plus one in the end rather than zero."

"I won't let you." Totsuka stepped up to me and placed her hands on my cheek, forcefully turning my head to stare straight at her. "I couldn't—no, I didn't do anything before. That was my mistake, my regret. I won't make the same mistake again."

It would be easy to fall for her. A beautiful girl under the moonlight, touching my face with her hands. It would be so easy. However, that was the misconception. A man could easily misconstrue a situation on lesser things. If I swooped in, thinking that it was something more, my only reward would be a slap. Totsuka wasn't seducing me; it was just how Totsuka was. I separated her hands from my cheeks.

She looked up at me, expecting an answer. If I was Hayama, I would have told her that I would rely on her, that I needed her. However, I was a monster of logic. While Hayama would try to include even the most useless of party members like Tobe, I wasn't like that. If I said those words, they would just that. Empty words.

There was just not much that she could do. Her position in the family was far too low, considering the amount of older siblings she had. Not to mention that in this medieval era, women weren't considered highly, even though I had heard that the head of House Hightower was a bit different from the norm. That wasn't even getting into the fact that Oldtown was firmly under the jurisdiction of the Seven. From a status perspective, House Hightower—while a strong house—did not have control over the Reach. The only house that came close was House Tyrell, but even their control was more of an alliance that was closer to tradition than anything else. Not like the control that House Lannister had over the Westerlands. If Tywin ordered it, any house in the Westerland could easily be crushed with almost no opposition. That was the legacy that he built, a legacy that I would eventually inherit.

As the silence lingered, I could see the conflict sprouting in her eyes. The frown that tugged at her lips. The small, clenched fists. Yeah, I wasn't doing a good job of protecting her smile. I opened my suddenly dry mouth.

"Don't worry about it."

Knuckles met my cheek. Despite the intention of her swing, of her fist meeting my face, I only moved my face slightly to the side, more to accommodate my vision rather than from the impact of her move. Totsuka just lacked the strength to do any further. If this was Japan, then Totsuka would have had the strength she built up from her tennis practice. However, in this world, I doubted that she could play sports often, if at all.

Her fist, stuck to my face, was trembling. Her watery eyes were glaring at me. However, I hardened my heart; I had made my stance clear.

I wouldn't give out false hope. I couldn't. The more she tried, the more detrimental her position would be. If I took her with me, would she satisfied with simply giving me moral support, cheering me on from the audience? No, she would try to do more, and the more she tried, the more risks she would take. If her place here was worse, maybe I would have done it, but if I only just looked at Malora Hightower who was still allowed to stay unmarried despite her older age, I could see the policy that the head of House Hightower had. She would be fine here. I couldn't allow her to become more at risk.

Blame me. Hate me.

There was only one person that needed to bear the blame, and that was me.

I ruefully smirked. Despite the fist pressing against my cheek, I opened my mouth to speak, but she was faster than me.

"That's enough, Hachiman." Her fist opened up, her fingers trailing across my skin in the process. She placed her hand on my cheek, staring at me with sympathetic eyes. Eyes that felt like it was burning me.

"What are you talking ab—"

"I said, that is enough," Totsuka said, staring into my eyes. Even when I tried to turn my gaze away, she moved a step in that direction so that she was in my vision again. "You're doing it again. Hurting yourself for no reason at all."

"It's not for no reason."

"Stop it, Hachiman. It's enough." Totsuka stepped in closer and wrapped her arms around me, pressing the side of her face into my chest. "It's enough."

In spite of myself, I raised my arms to wrap around her, to pull her in close, to feel that—for once—I wasn't alone. However, my arms stopped in the middle of the motion. Instead, my hands landed gently on her shoulders, and I moved her away from me. She looked up questioningly at me, even as my hands stayed on her slender shoulders.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no words to say.

Instead, I gave in. My arms wrapped around her frail body. I shouldn't be doing this, but my emotions were fickle. Since I fell this far, I decided to just go as far as I could.

"Marry me?"

"I'm sorry. I only think of you as a friend. Besides, aren't we both guys at heart?"

With her ear pressed against my chest, I was pretty sure that she clearly heard that useless organ in there breaking apart.

As expected.

~o~

A/N: It's funny how the longer I am on hiatus, the harder it is to come back. It feels like it is easier to make a new story than to return to one that has stalled. Probably the same reason it is easier to start a new game than to go back to an old save file. Just some musing that I had while I was proof reading this chapter.


	15. Chapter 13: Service

Chapter 13: Service

~o~

I pulled the reigns on my horse, letting my ride settle down. Up upon that hill in the distance, across the fields of flower, was a castle that stood as the peak of what a beautified castle should look like, if the owner had enough servants to clean it every week. A white castle with walls that stretched around the hill, cover the heraldry of House Tyrell. As I stared at the castle of Highgarden, I couldn't help but take a deep breath of the scented air. In all rights, I should be impressed by the sight, but I was concerned with something different.

I have always talked about youth. In particular, the illusion and falsehood of youth, but even then, that is simply one facet of the multi-faced lie that is youth. Like the snakes on a Gorgon's head, each infused with a different venom, it has many different aspects in mirror images, but each has their own unique claws that latch on and inflict their own wound that will carry on beyond the boundaries.

The boundaries that define adulthood.

Youth is a separation, a term meant to give a reason to the inexplicable line between being young and being an adult. If that is so, then when does one graduate from a juvenile delinquent into a delinquent? Or rather, when do they transform into a gangster? Mobster? Yakuza? Politician? Youth is that indiscriminate line between going to juvenile detention for a couple of years and going to jail for a couple of decades. Oh, he punched him and broke his jaw? That's youth; give him a suspension. Wait, he's actually one year older and counts as an adult? Let's sue for money and jail-time! Indeed, youth is that excuse where you get a slap on the wrist instead of a slap on your face. It ill-prepares you for the truth about life.

Of course, in this case, the person in question was given a promotion instead.

Which person was I talking about? It was the one riding besides me on a horse, towering over me like a colossus despite being seated on separate horses and him being only a year older than me. This was my newest subordinate, ordered unto me by Tywin. He was a boy that was as tall and as big as university sports athlete with a frown so engraved on his face that it was like he was born with it. Even the armor that was fitted on him was adult-sized and the longsword was as well, though he wasn't wearing a helmet.

His name was Gregor Clegane. Just from appearance alone, you would think that he would be the boss of regional delinquents that have conquered a greater part of Tokyo, but that was first-time snap judgment; it stood to reason that his personality could be different. Of course, after getting to know him, I found out that he was as much of a thug as he looked. This was the type of person that you wouldn't want to meet in a back alley because you would know that you would be ending up in the hospital without your pocket change. Even the air around him was threatening, such that I unconsciously shrank from him even as he kept his place beside me.

If he wasn't a delinquent, he could probably join the Student Council of Honnoji Academy and receive a Three-Star Goku Uniform. That was just how ingrained his angry expression seemed to be on his face, even at rest—and that wasn't even mentioning his height and weight. If I did mention it, I felt like I would have to prepare for a future where he would become the Disciplinary Committee Chair, stepping through doors where he could barely fit to dispense school-oriented justice—okay, that was enough of that.

So why was he here? I wasn't so stupid to think that there was no reason. Before I had left Oldtown, I had noticed a new set of chainmail on my dresser. Not only that, but I couldn't find the set of clothes that I was wearing before. At the time, I hadn't really paid attention, but it seemed like when the maids washed my clothes, they found the slit made by Totsuka's knife. Tywin hadn't mentioned anything about it, though this arrangement made it obvious that he knew. Well, technically, it made it more obvious. The first sign of it was actually when it was announced that we would be making a departure only a couple of days later after I met Totsuka, not to mention the subtle increase of guards that seemed to walk by me a little too often. It made sense; Oldtown was a stronghold of the Faith of the Seven. As I was practically the chief spokesman of the Red Faith in Westeros, it was very much possible that they would try to assassinate me. For that reason, I wasn't able to talk with Totsuka more, not without bring their attention to her, and I didn't want them to the Lannister soldiers to investigate further since she technically was my failure of an assassin.

After the initial handover of technology—specifically on how to make paper—I hadn't really had any more meetings with the higher ups in the Citadel. I was told that I would be welcomed as a friend to the citadel, but I didn't really ask for any more meetings, and they didn't either. There were plenty of maesters on the ground floor that wanted to say thanks or talk to me personally, but I rejected all of them. I didn't really want to have to sit through more platitude, even though I technically had more time than I could ever use. I had done it for a purpose, and that was that. Though, there was apparently this Dornish maester who nearly snuck in to the tower to see me, but he was caught and brought back to the Citadel for punishment. All I did was hand over information on how to make paper with cheaper materials than animal skin, yet it seemed like I had a fanclub now. The fact that my fanclub consisted of balding old men didn't really fill me with much enthusiasm.

After that, we visited a few minor Houses along the coastline. We didn't stay at any of them for very long, but there were quite a few of them. Not only that, but they all seemed to have unattached daughters that they wanted to offload onto me through any means possible. Of course, with my increased guards, there were no nighttime crawlings, but when you had girls far older—and younger—than me trying to do that, it got more than a little creepy.

Now, you might thinking: "Do you have so many girls after you that you would refuse a girl crawling into your bed?" Well, technically, yes, I did have that many girls after me, but that wasn't the point. They were all doing it for political or financial reasons. Having your daughter marry not just into the Lannister House but to the heir apparent was something that was well worth killing for. Forget killing, it was well worth massacring for.

Now, you might also be thinking: "Why not just have some fun with them?" That was a bad way of thinking. Putting aside the fact that marriage was until death here, this wasn't like the modern world; there was no form of contraceptive except some weird herbal drink they had to abort a pregnancy in progress. A herbal drink with known side effects that could ruin her future permanently thereafter. The alternative was letting her give birth to a fatherless child and letting that child be called a bastard for the rest of his or her life. In Westeros, they even had specific last names for bastards. The status of a bastard was something that was constantly in flux, but it didn't tend to be well-thought of, even those accepted by whatever noble house sired them. Could I leave a child behind like that? Maybe, but I was smart enough to know that the guilt would follow me around for the rest of my life. I had enough traumas haunting me already.

By the time we arrived at the territory of House Tyrell, a speedy procession had also arrived on the land route from the Westerlands. A group of men-at-arms under House Clegane that carried with them one Gregor Clegane. Well, not carried since the apparent teenager rode on a horse. In fact, despite being the only teenager with them, he had looked more the part of the knight than the rest of the men from House Clegane; while he was suited in metal armor, the rest of his entourage of older men had worn only leather armor with scatterings of metal plates. They met us at the harbor, along with an escort of Tyrell's guardsmen.

And that was why I was standing here, on the path that led up the hillside to Highgarden, a castle that sat on the banks of the river Mandor and surrounded by white stone wall defenses that would have made it difficult to assault. Nowhere as close to as hard to assault as Casterly Rock, but it was enough. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that the architecture and the white stones it was composed of made it seemed more like a fantasy castle than anything else, the type that elves or King Arthur would live in.

Should I call it Camelot? Will I see the black knight Berserker in there?

"Lord Hachi." Gregor's voice was deep, deeper than it had any right to be considering his age, such that it felt like an older man was speaking to me.

"Right…" I gave a small nod as I began walking up the hill again. While I wanted to take in the sight a bit more, I felt like it would be wrong to keep people waiting simply on me. If I had given the word, they would have simply waited, but it wasn't something that I felt was too important in any case. I wasn't really the type to care about sightseeing in the first place.

If there was one thing I remembered from my past life, it was the fact that many people who exhausted themselves at black companies, grinding all the way down to their bones in an effort to make and save money for the future, would almost always want to travel and see the world in their later years. To me, that felt pointless. Why bother traveling when there was only two things that they would do anyways: sightsee and eat. That was it. There was nothing else really. Would you really just randomly stop one of the inhabitants of the city just to chat them up? They would more than likely brush you off so they could head off to complete whatever business they needed to do.

Since that was case, you could always just sightsee by looking at pictures or videos. That would be a similar experience or maybe an even better one since those images—especially the professional ones—were more ideal than reality. Even a painting or a drawing could provide a better sight than reality. For food, just look up a recipe and make the dish yourself. It wouldn't be exactly the same, but it would be close enough that you wouldn't have to spend millions of yen just to travel there and get the same dining experience. It was pointless. It was a waste. In fact, you could get the gist of it from reading a manga. Why bother with it in the first place when it would never reach the ideal?

As I stared at the white stone that made up the castle's walls and ramparts, I couldn't help but think about how much money they must have spent to keep those walls clean. After all, it was easy to make white look dirty. There was a reason many simply opted for standard gray stones; it was harder to see all the dirt on it. Not to mention, it was far cheaper in price too, both in its creation and its maintenance.

"Lord Hachi," Gregor said, interrupting my thoughts. "Your lord father calls for you."

"Did he say why?"

"No." His word came slow and his voice was thick with barely restrained disdain. The disgruntled expression on his face showed that he felt that being a messenger—even though he had been by my side the entire time—was beneath him. Or maybe he thought simply being here was beneath him. If that was the case… Well, I didn't really want him to be here either. From the brief time I had spent with him, this was hardly the place he wanted to be in, and I was hardly the person he wanted to talk to.

"If you don't want to be here, you don't have to." Even though the squire was supposed to be my subordinate, it was pointless to keep someone on who was obviously unmotivated. It would just be more hassle than it was worth, for both of us.

His face twisted into what seemed like a grimace, but he quickly bowed his head, perhaps to hide it.

"My lord." His voice took an almost placating tone to it. "My place is here."

"Is it? Why are you here?"

"To serve you, my lord."

"I have no need for a servant. He wouldn't call you here just for that," I said. "My father, Tywin Lannister, chose you to stay beside me. Out of everyone else he could have chosen, he chose you. That means that you, in the very least, are loyal to House Lannister. But I don't need a servant. I don't need a slave. What I need is talent. What is your talent?"

Gregor raised his head, such that his eyes locked onto mind. That act, in itself, was not subservient. I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but it did show some initiative. Which was actually a bit hypocritical since I wouldn't be able to do the same if I was in his position.

"Killing."

That was one scary talent, but the answer wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Even then, I wasn't sure if I could take his words at face value, considering the fact that "killing" wasn't exactly an answer that anyone besides the most arrogant or the most stupid would give, especially since I didn't see any glow in his eyes that showed that he had the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Did he think he was Golgo 13? I really couldn't imagine him sneaking around in full plate armor, assassinating targets from the shadows with wit and finesse.

"Okay, we'll talk about this later. Stay here. I'll see what my father has to say."

Leaving the tall squire behind, I rode my horse up the procession that was heading up the path to the castle. The three ships were anchored in the river, at a port that seemed like it wasn't made to accommodate ships of that size, let alone three. From them, even from here, I could see people filtering out of the ships, carrying gifts and supplies as they placed them in wagons that would soon join the procession that was making their way to Highgarden. Though, I turned my attention back to driving the horse up the path; I wasn't so skilled at horse-riding that I could afford to split my attention. It wasn't long before I saw Tywin waiting on his horse with a relatively small group of bodyguards around him. None of them stopped me as I rode my horse up to him.

"Father."

"Hachi." Tywin turned his horse back to the path and started a slow trot. "Ride with me."

I nodded my head as I joined beside him. As we made our way up the path, the people we passed bowed their heads at our passing.

"A match will be found for you here, one that matches your status," Tywin said. "Your witch is not to step one foot off the ship. Do not sabotage my efforts."

"Was there any offers from House Hightower?" I hadn't asked before since I assumed there was none, but now that the prospect of marriage was closing in, I was holding onto a small hope that Totsuka might have changed her mind. "Weren't you just given a letter that came from them?" When we had arrived on the beaches, there had been a bird mail awaiting us that had been sent from House Hightower to Highgarden. As I had been in my brooding following Totsuka's rejection, I hadn't bothered to pay attention to what marriage offers I had gotten from Totsuka's sisters. Not that I planned to take up any of the offers.

"None."

…not even the fainting girl? I had expected that Totsuka wouldn't be in there—despite one last lingering shred of hope—but there had to be at least one. The girl had practically shouted out her intent when he was there. The fact that there wasn't could only have been the doing of the Lord of House Hightower. Despite that dinner party they threw, they had no intentions of letting any of their daughters marry into House Lannister. It was a bit strange considering how progressive their marriage policy was, but it probably had to do with House Lannister's reputation or maybe my own. There was enough bad rumors floating around about me anyways, especially since I was connected to the Red Faith. It looked like the Totsuka route was permanently closed off now. Maybe I could have done something, but it was too late now that I was near Highgarden instead of Oldtown.

"I see." Deflated as I was, I tried to keep it out of my voice. I wasn't sure if I succeeded or not. "Was this how your own marriage was arranged?"

"No." He paused for a moment. "My marriage to your mother was a necessity. With your grandfather having bungled his management of the Westerlands, a strategic marriage that would tie up the internal conflicts that mar our land was needed." He looked pensive for a moment. "I eventually came to love her, and in time, you will come to cherish your own match."

Those words were of little comfort and too optimistic to me. Being at the bottom where I couldn't get a relationship even if I wanted to and being at the top where the choice was out of my hand were both extremes that were more than a little off-putting. Well, if I had a choice, I would choose the top rather the bottom. Still, considering my relationship with Tywin, I should still have some say over the matter. I doubted he would choose anyone who I vehemently object to, but if worst came to worst, I still had some cards up my sleeve. Not trap cards, but options nonetheless.

"How is your newest companion?" As if having sensed the topic was too heavy, Tywin changed the subject.

"He's difficult to deal with," I said. "Why did you assign him to me?"

"I have given you ample time and opportunity to make friends and connections with the nobility. You did not," he said. "Having participated in so many dinner parties, you have shown no intention of simple politeness."

"That's not true…" My mumbles came under my breath.

"Name a single friend of noble blood, unrelated to our ancestry."

I couldn't really open my mouth. The closest I could think of was Rhaegar, but he was more of an acquaintance than anything else, like a classmate who would greet you every once in a while. Not that I would know that feeling.

"If you cannot mingle with noble society, you must make relationships with the knighthood." Tywin turned his head slightly, sending an unnerving glance my way. "You are a capable strategist and tactician, but if you do not have a repertoire with the knights under your command, you will not be able to display your full military might."

"And Gregor is that connection?"

"No." Tywin scoffed. "He is merely a squire, someone for you to practice on."

The fact that he thought that I had to practice having friends was more than a little hard to swallow.

"He is more beast than boy," he said. "A mad hound who brings harm to those around him."

"Are you trying to wish bad luck on me?"

"I expect you to leash him." Tywin threw me another unnerving stare. "A hound is a tool, and his potential as a tool is significant enough to warrant your attention. I had made it unduly clear to him the consequences of disobedience."

"It seems you already did half my work for me."

"Get to know him. Find out his strengths and weaknesses, and bring him to heel," he said, as if he didn't hear anything I was saying.

"That's not so much a friendship as it is blackmail."

"He is not here for you to make friends with. Your goal is create a connection, not extend the hand of friendship," Tywin said with disdain in his voice. "You are his liege, and he is your vassal. Do not forget that."

"Yes, father."

"Bring him under control. I expect nothing less from you."

"And if I fail?"

"You won't," Tywin said with absolute confidence. "You are my son and heir, the future of our dynasty."

"Even a god can fail at times." If Zaimokuza was any reference, then that would be a lot of times.

"Then you must surpass the gods." He turned to gaze upon the castle. "You need the opportunity to show your worth. A daughter of the Tyrell—an adherent of the Seven—will do well to settle the religious disputes garnered by your public support of the Red Faith. It will also provide us with close ties to the Reach, a land filled to an abundance in food and men. The gold provided by their meats, fruits, and vegetables are frivolously spent on beautification rather than fortification. You would do well to learn not to follow suit."

"They're counting on their people to support them." The Reach could be said to be the most desirable of lands to live on. That was because the weather was mild, food was abundant, and chivalry was still alive here. In the Reach, even wandering knights would attempt to protect the innocent here, partially from peer pressure of the knightly society if they didn't; they had a reputation to keep up, even if they didn't necessarily believe in it.

"A great many would join their cause if they raise a call to arms. Ill-trained and idealistic to the point of naivety, but bodies nonetheless to push forth the tide."

A human wave tactic. While it could be effective, the amount of lives that would be lost made me uncomfortable with the thought. If they had been equipped with some kind of explosive to act as suicide bombers, that would be massively devastating. However, with just pitchforks, scythes, or dull swords? They would be massacred easily by a well-armored battalion or cavalry on the open field. Off the open field? Well, urban or guerrilla warfare was a wholly different matter, where the victor couldn't easily be decided. The amount of suffering and collateral damage it would cause didn't even need to be said.

"Just having manpower won't be enough."

"I'm well aware," Tywin said. "Your games portray House Tyrell well. The support and supplies that the Reach can provide could help the Westerlands prosper, should an agreement be made. An agreement that will be cemented by marriage."

"I know, I know," I said exasperatedly. It seemed like every chance he got, he had to pound into me how important this marriage agreement would be. Alliance, trade deals, getting the religious zealots off my back. The Reach was second in wealth compared to the Westerlands, but it was first in manpower and farming. In comparison to the other regions, there were plenty of benefits to be had.

If I had to categorize the various regions, it would probably be like this:

The Westerlands was the tyrant's fist, crushing dissent with an iron gauntlet and a fistful of gold. If there was ever a region that fits the theme of an evil overlord, then this would be it. Too bad it didn't have a Great Tomb of Nazarick for me to inherit.

The Reach was the populist regime, feeding the continent and encouraging the advancement of artistic culture. If there was any that vied for best tourist attraction of Westeros, it was the Reach. Basically, they were the equivalent of Tokyo Disneyland.

The North was the hardy Nordic barbarians, priding themselves on living in the cold and possibly wrestling bears with their bare hands and chest. Probably thought they were better than everyone else because they are on the frontlines with the wildlings. That was usually the attitude frontliners would take. Possibly the homeland of the Dragonborn. A marriage here would give me direct access to the Wall.

The Riverlands was the region of warlords, each with their own war-torn territory and conflict. That was what happens when their land was on the frontline in any conflict between the different regions of Westeros. Any solidarity that could be had would be ravished by the civil war, and then they would be left with the devastated aftermath again and again. If this was the modern world, they would be on the international news everyday with the United Nations intervening every so often. A marriage here would account for almost nothing except maybe facilitate trade routes across the continent. They were, after all, in the middle of everything.

The Stormlands was the alliance of scattered states, held together by nothing more than a simple agreement. Probably pledged over a mug of ale and punch or two from a bar brawl. They never really had a close relationship with each other, viewing it more as duty than anything else. Or at least, that was what they made it seem like. Always itching for a fight, they were probably hoping for something like the Horde to arrive, not that I think they could handle orcs or anything of that nature. Not much to gain from a marriage here, not unless I could make Shipbreaker Bay safe somehow.

Dorne was the separatist region, composed and held together by their shared ethnic difference from the rest of the continent. Their culture, fighting style, and even their love relationships were wholly different, and they keep their difference through the separation provided by distance. It was like Okinawa. A marriage here would facilitate trade routes with the eastern continent, but this was already a burnt bridge and an example of why not to trust "nice" girls.

The Iron Islands was the pirate nation. Unlike what pirate nation would usually imply—a conglomerate of different pirate captains banding together for a safe haven—it was actually entire islands of people that were born into a culture that praised piracy as the greatest thing in the world. Murder, looting, raping were viewed more like virtues than sins. They certainly weren't looking for the One Piece. A marriage here, if I could stomach everything they did, would allow access to the iron mines.

The Crownland was the heart of the continent, the Shogun who had little actual power and authority besides that which was provided by tradition. Corrupt, scheming, vile. If Tywin's words were to go by, and he had been the Hand of the King for a long time, then this place was about as messy and corrupt as what you would expect of an ill-managed government. If there was any place that could benefit from a band of vigilantes, then this would be the place. A marriage here would not only provide a connection to the Iron Throne, but it would also give access to the obsidian buried underneath Dragonstone even if I still probably have to pay "taxes" for it.

So, out of all these different regions, which would be the most enticing? Obviously, it would be Tokyo Disneyland. Or possibly the Icelands. Maintaining a food supplies would be essential to weathering through an assault by the Others, but having access to the Wall would allow me to fortify it in preparation. Of course, convincing Tywin that the importance of the North was easier said than done. So, for marriage contracts, there really was only one choice left…

"I expect you to be on your best behavior," Tywin said. "I've overlooked your inadequacies at the previous houses, and I do not expect you to manage people like your sister. However, I expect a modicum of effort in this endeavor, lest you put a stain on the Lannister name."

"Yes, father."

"Good." He reached over and laid a rough hand on my shoulder. "Even if I were to die tomorrow and be buried with your mother, I'd be able to rest assured that you'd carry on my legacy."

"If that were to happen, then the oppressed elements would rise up." It was easy to see that Tywin ruled through a force of personality. That also meant that once he fell, his successor would be hard-put to keep the region together. Just like how Alexander the Great's empire fell apart after he died. Though, my knowledge of history was a little faulty since most of it came from a certain hero summoning simulator. King Arthur can't be this cute!

"Conflict is good. I secured my own position by crushing the rebellion of House Reyne and House Tarbeck." He looked pensive for a moment. "With the Targaryens in power, there hasn't been a true conflict between the Seven Kingdoms in ages. Even with civil wars and invasions, the borders of each region have remain fairly stagnant. As such, the other Kingdoms will not directly interfere in our affairs." He let go of my shoulder as we continued have our horses trot forward. "Every once in a while, it is necessary to clean up the internal conflicts to remind the rabble. I have no doubt that you will secure your position and bring such prestige to the Lannister name that it will be remembered in a thousand years, alongside that of Lann the Clever."

I nodded my head, even though I didn't really feel the same. I had read too many stories and seen too many anime about descendants somewhere down the line ruining their family name. Who could say that there wouldn't be a descendant somewhere down the line who would do something stupid or simply backed the wrong side of a conflict? That was just something that I couldn't influence anyways so it was pointless to think about. Did Loreon I Lannister consider his descendants hundreds of years down the line? Of course not. In fact, if Tywin somehow knew when the Lannister name ends, he would probably be unmotivated to do anything anymore.

Not that I would say anything about this to him.

We continued our slow trot towards Highgarden.

~o~

The moment we arrived, we were greeted by the Lords and Ladies of Highgarden. However, considering the amount of gifts and servants that needed to be situated, the greeting didn't last too long. More of that would be at the dinner feast that they were throwing for us later on, but for now, I was simply led to a very nice looking room along with my subordinate. It really was a glamorous room, far more than even the guest room in the Hightower. It was built and furnished to impress. Not that I really gave it more than a few looks; I wasn't really that into decor in the first place. As long as it was functional, I didn't need posters of my favorite anime covering the walls like a certain fiery glasses-wearing god.

Instead, I was sitting at a table inside the room with my hands folded in front of my mouth and my eyes staring at the other occupant of the table. I would like to think that I put on the image of a boss, but I had neither white gloves nor tinted sunglasses to complete the look. I didn't even have a scruffy beard.

"So, tell me about yourself, Gregor."

Gregor Clegane, dressed in the plainest of shirts and pants, stared at me blankly from across the wooden table we were sitting at. This was the guest room within the castle, held in reserve for nobility. Even then, this was as extravagant as it went, featuring the most expensive of rugs and drapes. Not that I could tell the difference.

Indeed, he was staring at me blankly—or more accurately, dumbfoundedly—as I conducted the interview. Most nobles would probably have been satisfied with knowing nothing about their underlings, but I was a child of the modern world. Even if I abhorred the mechanical clockwork hierarchy of black corporations, bent on drawing every last bit of your soul out in exchange for low, low price of a few thousand yen, the concept of an interview had a fundamental basis that dated back since time immemorial.

"I'm just asking you to talk a bit about yourself. A little introduction of who you are. Maybe something about your hobbies."

He stared blankly at me. If anything, his frown seemed like it curved even more downward. I could see the reluctance and inherent disdain in his eyes since he barely did anything to hide it. Maybe he didn't know how to. It wasn't unexpected since he was a child of a lower noble house, one that didn't really have much more basis than a landed knight. Some would think that was discrimination, but it wasn't like there existed books like: "How to manage your newly created noble house for beginners." Still, I was his liege; should he really be showing such an expression toward me in the first place? I waited for him to speak, and eventually, he did indeed speak.

"Breaking," Gregor enunciated slowly, almost painfully so. When I gave him a questioning look, he stared at me in confusion. After I prompted him to explain further, he said, "To feel it…shatter."

I could see he was having trouble explaining, as if he was unused to it. He probably was. This was about as amazing a vocabulary as I could probably expect from him, though I—to an extent—understood where he was coming from. Being trained as a knight for the battlefield, he could be said to have potential, and by potential, I mean that he had acquired a taste for violence. This wasn't the modern world where real life violence wasn't usually viewed in a good light; here, it was a very much desirable trait. Therefore, what was the point of more scholarly activities when he had his future job already set out before him?

"Anything you do for fun?"

"No."

"Nothing to relax?"

"No."

"What do you usually do?"

"Fight. Eat. Sleep."

"Alright, how do you train?"

He had far more to say on that than anything else. Even then, he was unused to it, as if speaking itself was a chore. He tried to simply get away with the most minimal of details, forcing me to have to interrupt him often to get clarification and more information. Each time I did so, he took on this furrowed look, as if it pissed him off every time I opened my mouth. In fact, he seemed to preemptively furrow his expression the moment he saw me part my lips. I had to admit that I breathed through my mouth a few times just to see his expression go towards anger before quickly loosening when I didn't say a word. His anger came quick, but calm came just as quickly, as if he was reminding himself who exactly he was speaking to. In the end, I used my patented technique to gather all the statements and combine it into one neat, summarized portion. The end result was:

Gregor Clegane was trained like an attack dog.

The end.

It really was quite simple, and he certainly wasn't articulate enough to express it well. If I had asked him to write a report—assuming that he knew how to read and write—then it would essentially consist of one-liners. Maybe even just be a daily journal.

Day 1:

Forced to write on this parchment because of the Lannister brat. Fuck the Lannisters.

Day 30:

I trained in the morning. Ate lamb. Went to sleep.

Day 55:

The horse threw me off. I broke his leg and his teeth.

Day 95:

I trained in the morning. Ate stew. Tasted like shit. Took a shit. Went to sleep with a headache.

Day 155:

I admire Lord Hachi Lannister. He's a wonderful lord and the greatest thing since they put seaweed in sushi rolls—

Okay, haha, no, he wouldn't write that last one. In any case, that was the sense that I got from him. A bundle of anger without any real means to express it except through violence. It made sense, considering that he was trained like an attack dog. I was pretty sure that was not how a knight was supposed to be trained. Should I be outraged? Considering my modern morals, that would be a yes, but in all honestly, I had seen some dark things since I reincarnated here. If you had beauty and was born a noble, you could get away with it, but if you were born a peasant? You were liable to get outright kidnapped by the local nobles to become a mistress or worse. It was frowned upon, but it wasn't like it stopped lesser noble houses, especially since they were lower on the social totem pole. Not really anything I could do about it, since it was one of those widespread but hush-hush topic that nobody talked about because it was better not to. What about setting a law? Even if I had the power to do that, could I really do that considering my own branch houses probably participates in it and the other kingdoms would certainly not follow suit in the lawmaking.

Not only that, but the criminal justice system here was woefully lacking. It wasn't so much a problem in Japan where there was a sense of societal obligation, even for the Yakuza. However, this was more like Europe or America where crime happened all the time. We didn't have a Sherlock Holmes or a certain adult-turned-child detective to go around, solving crime in an era where it was hard to gather evidence. Not the mention that, because it was hard, the punishment tended to be extreme. If you got caught stealing? How could they know if it was your first time or thousandth time? Off with your hands! Either that or head to the Wall for the rest of your life. It was overkill, but when it was extremely hard to find evidence, every crime had to be treated excessively to deter copycats.

In any case, Gregor Clegane had attack dog training. I was starting to understand why Tywin said I needed to leash him; it seemed he already knew about the situation before he assigned him to me. This was going to be a pain, but it wasn't like I could not do it. Even if it wasn't an assignment from Tywin, the fact that a bundle of murderous energy was living relatively near to Casterly Rock was going to make me have to deal with him sooner or later. And the more later I waited, the more likely it would be too late to redeem him and I would have to put him down. It was hard to think like that, but it wasn't like I could move away and live someplace else. I had to deal with the problem now. It felt like I was in the Service Club again, acting more like a counselor than a lord.

"Gregor."

"Yes, Lord Hachi?"

"We need to find you a hobby."

"My lord?"

Wasn't this what community outreach programs do to prevent students from becoming delinquents or gangsters? Give them a hobby.

"Just follow me."

~o~

A/N: I was just musing in my last author note. No need to take it seriously. 


	16. Chapter 14: Feast

Chapter 14: Feast

~o~

A dinner feast hosted by Highgarden had far less people than I expected, even though the dining hall itself was a good deal bigger than even the Lannister's. The thing was, in a room of this size, if you put a single incredibly long table in the center of it, it just made the whole place feel a lot larger and a lot emptier than it should have been. Not to mention that it was far quieter than I was expecting it to be, with only loud chatter instead of rambunctious merrymaking. The fact that I was using the term "rambunctious merrymaking" in lieu of some other more dignified terminology was mainly because there really was no other way to describe it. Maybe I was too influenced by the many, many dinner parties that I had to sit through in the minor houses before we had reached Highgarden. In any case, with the hall being so large while the occupants being so small, it felt less like a cozy event and more something like the main attraction of a show. In fact, it felt like more people were paying attention to me. Not only the nobles, but the servants as well.

There were plenty of maids and butlers waiting at the walls, at such a distance that you actually had to raise your voice to call them, though there were a couple closer on each side that attended to everyone's needs. There was also music being played by a band of bards, a soft melody that gave the atmosphere a more peaceful feeling.

The parties of Lannister guests and Tyrell hosts were mixed together, seated in an arrangement that seemed chaotic at first, but it wasn't hard to notice why it was arranged this way. Most of the eligible young females were practically gathered around me. If anything, I found it hard to look around without getting noticed, considering that I was getting gazes from my left, right, and across from me. It wasn't like I was much to look at; I wasn't handsome like Jaime with his shapely face and muscled physique. I was just me, plain as ever with eyes filled with omega-3 vitamins. Granted, that would make me look smart—haha—but looking smart wasn't really an attractive feature. Otherwise, I would imagine the maesters would be swarmed by fangirls.

I felt a hand slip under the table and settle on my left thigh. As if competing, I felt another hand from the other side drop down to give my right thigh a squeeze. Would a third hand reach across the table and give the part in between a touch up? No, of course not, this wasn't a harem anime; this was reality, and it was getting a bit ridiculous. I should, by all right, move their hands aside, but that meant actually touching their hands. It was a trap where they would wrap their fingers around my hand and bring it into a handhold. If I made a move to extract myself, it would cause enough noise to attract attention. Well, more attention than I was already attracting, given the smiles on the nearby faces.

They were being unnaturally bold about it. Well, it wasn't hard to gather that information about me; I had been to plenty of feasts and parties as my ship traveled down from the Westerland to the Reach. If anything, I would be surprised if they didn't find out about my tendencies. They couldn't make noises themselves because it would be bad for them, but if I did it, it would instead show my interest in them. A moan or groan maybe. Unless I badmouthed them, of course, but their information network wasn't so shoddy that they probably knew that I wouldn't. If one put aside my status as heir and my face, then I would have pretty high specs in this day and age, wouldn't I?

"Hachi is such a unique name, my lord." Janna Tyrell, the girl on my left, had her hand travel towards my inner thigh. She was twenty years old—older than me by seven years—and was first daughter of the main house.

"But still a beautiful name, my lord." Mina Tyrell, the girl on my right, squeezed my thigh a little harder. She was five years older than me at eighteen years old, an age where it was the right time to be married. Not to mention she was the second daughter of the main house.

"It is…" Victaria Tyrell, the girl sitting across the table from me, was shyly nodding her head. When the sixteen year old girl—three years older than me—saw my gaze, she looked down with a blush. Apart from being the youngest of the three, she was also a distant cousin to the other two. That was probably one of the reasons why she was acting more shyly in my presence, not to mention also being seated the furthest from me.

What struck me as oddest was the way they were supporting each other rather than trying to one-up each other. So instead of feeling like they were competing for me, it felt more like they were teaming up with each other against me. Was this what a harem protagonist would feel like?

No, rather than that, it was probably more like how it would feel to be a nightclub in Kabukicho. I played enough Yakuza games to know that one should have a hostess hanging off each arm, pouring endless glasses of alcohol from a bottomless bottle. Not that I would know what those clubs were like in actuality, but it seemed like a simple enough concept. Insert seduction and out comes yen. Equivalent exchange, almost enough to be an alchemist formula.

Though, their goal here was vastly different. As I took a glance at the further end of the table where Tywin was in an animated discussion with our host, Luthor Tyrell. Well, far more animated on Luthor's side than from Tywin. In all likelihood, I would become engaged to one of these three girls no matter what. Did I want to? Not really. Did I have to? Probably.

Back in Japan, if this happened, I would probably be more okay with it since I really did not have much other options. I wasn't attractive enough, despite every one of my stats being above average with the exception of my sociability. However, now that the power of gold had made me attractive enough that I had a choice, I was a little reluctant. It was probably more than a bit hypocritical. Before, I would have been satisfied if I was thrown a dreg, but now that I had a choice, it didn't feel good to settle.

If my only choice was to watch the news on television, then of course, I would simply watch the news. However, if I was also given the choice to watch anime, read manga, or read light novels, would I simply choose to watch the news? Of course not. That was the empowerment that choice brought.

Still, seeing as how I recognized my own issue, I could find a way to live with it. It wasn't like I was going to run away or get kidnapped by a giant fire-breathing, turtle-shelled lizard. Plumbers weren't exactly a popular profession for females. Besides, I had a larger, more important goal than all of this. This was merely one step in my plan for world domination—

Okay, that was actually "saving the world," though it didn't sound any less chuuni. Considering that I could now summon fire into my hands—and on top my whole body at this point—I could easily do a reenactment of my younger, hallucination-filled days. In fact, this whole life seemed to like the kind of shitty story that Zaimokuza would come up with. Was this world actually a fictional story brought to life just so that I could star in it as the main protagonist? If it was, that crappy author chose the wrong setting.

Even with all the work I was putting into Lannisport which was firmly under control of the Red Faith, creating new products and improving the quality of life there, not to mention training my own specialized group of soldiers, it was still going far too slow. There wasn't magic where I could just hand-wave the specifics and bring about an industrial revolution. Well, there was magic, but on a very minor scale, the kind where you may have a party trick or two if you join an after-school occult club. Quite frankly, you weren't going to be doing anything like sacrificing the entire school with a giant ritual circle in exchange for power.

Zaimokuza did say that magic used to be a lot stronger in the past, when dragons were still around, but that was like saying that in the past, King Arthur could shoot laser beams out of his sword. I was entirely skeptical about his nostalgia and with good reason. If I couldn't filter out his exaggeration-filled memory, then I would have been in far more trouble these past few years than I had been.

It was unfortunate that Melisandre did not possess that ability. Her corruption was almost at an unredeemable level. If it weren't for the fact that she couldn't directly speak to Zaimokuza, she would have already become a lost cause. It would have made me reaffirm my dedication to a Zaimokuza-free world, if it weren't for the fact that I was already working towards a Zaimokuza-filled world. As it was, from the all the images Zaimokuza ended up showing her, she had taken up painting. Not that she was any good at it, being on the level of Doraemon, but she was slowly getting there—

"Are we boring you, my lord?" Janna—the one on my left—asked as her hand rubbed back and forth on my thigh. It was actually kind of starting to hurt now. Just how long had she been doing that?

Mina—the girl on my right—had already taken her hand back at some point and was now shyly looking at me with upturned eyes. The effect was a bit negated considering that her head wasn't tilted forward enough, and it was obvious she had about five minutes worth of practice.

Victaria—their cousin who was sitting across from us—was not even looking in my direction. Actually, that was wrong; her face was turned to the side, but she was peeking at me out of the corner of her eyes.

I had to admit, their methods of seduction were woefully inadequate. It was cute in that kind of naive, innocent way, but at the same time, it wasn't…? They didn't have the right attitude, clothes, or appearance to pull it off correctly. As it was, it was more like awkwardly watching a comedy show without the comedy. They could stand to learn a lot from Iroha, but really, how many more gods were bringing my friends over? Should I be checking the Drowned God? There goes Iroha, juggling axes from having become a burly, balding man.

…thinking of that image was a bad idea. It was going to haunt me, for sure.

Still, I wasn't really even sure why these girls were trying in the first place; it wasn't like it was my choice to choose. Which probably was the reason why they weren't given a lesson on seduction.

"That's…" I paused. While a part of me thought that their performance was lackluster, they were still girls who were interested in me. I was still a man, perish the thought if you thought otherwise. It wasn't like I could ignore their advances. Even with how much I criticized them in my mind, it wasn't like I was any better. I didn't really know how to respond, and even if I did pull out some line from an anime, could I perform them to satisfaction? Probably not. It was more likely that I would stutter or falter mid-sentence in my recital and embarrass myself. I would probably be better off with more confidence, but who should I believe in to believe in me?

Then again, it wasn't like it was that hard to be romantic in a medieval era. There wasn't widespread media, portraying romantic television drama that causes teenage girls and lonely housewives to flock to their TV sets. What all these girls had were, at most, romance stories from the mouth of bards and the occasional novel written on relatively expensive parchment.

I opened my mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, I simply closed it. What was I doing? This was marriage, not a date or anything like that. If I used these lines now, would I be using them thirty years down the line as well? The thing about romance dramas was that all they depicted was the conflict, the start of the romance. The happily ever after? If I wasn't compatible, it was likely we would become a bickering old couple when the lie would eventually be exposed. Did I want to spend my later years getting annoyed and yelling at my significant other about random things? To hear her go on and on about how I wasn't the man she married?

Just imagining that was like a slow grind torture that would slowly wear you down until all you would say is "Yes, dear" without even bothering to ever argue because it was easier than listening to her bicker endlessly and relentlessly about it. How could I imagine it so vividly? I had a creative imagination. Well no, actually, I just had to look down the table to see an example of that. At the end of the table, even though Luthor Tyrell and Tywin were in a discussion, Luthor's wife, Olenna, kept intervening into the conversation, usually to save her husband from saying something stupid. Luthor, for his part, relinquished the conversation to her easily enough. While Tywin was showing a stoic attitude towards it, I could tell that he was getting annoyed; it was probably far easier to deal with Luthor than Olenna. Still, for the Lord of the Reach to be so meek in the discussion—or rather, the negotiation—showed that they had a lot of practice. Well, I would probably be the same way with Yukinoshita, but this was a step beyond that. There wasn't even a wrinkle on Luthor's face, as if he had given in and simply stopped thinking about it.

"So we do bore you, my lord," Janna said as her hand stopped moving, settling on top of my thigh.

"Ah no, I just had too much on my mind."

"I can always lend an ear to your troubles, my lord," she said. "Now and in the future."

It could have been an innocent statement, but in the context of everything, it was pretty much a proposal. Still, I was curious as to why they were all trying so hard, even though the fact that I would have to marry one of them was almost set in stone at this point. Since they were all cooperating with each other rather than competing, then what was the point of all this?

"Won't you be sad to be away from Highgarden?" I asked.

"What's there to be sad about?" She smiled. "It's only a week's ride by ship, if there are no delays."

"Casterly Rock isn't as nice to look at as Highgarden."

"I'd have to leave Highgarden eventually. That is the fate of high-born girls." She removed her hand from my thigh. "If not here, then to one of the houses that have pledged loyalty to my father. Eventually, all of us would have to leave."

"Yes, but…" I knew that I am trying a little too hard, but I wasn't going to give up just yet. "Wouldn't someone like Rhaegar be a better partner?"

"Partner? Do you mean match?" With a smile, she covered her mouth with a dainty hand. "Of course, his majesty, the prince, is someone that any young girl desires, but he isn't that far above you, my lord."

"How so?" I asked with more than a little bitterness. It didn't really occur to me until now that the incident with Elia and Rhaegar really did become a bit of a trauma, even if I didn't want to admit it to myself.

"You'll be just as handsome when you get older, if not more so. You are generous; the maesters seem to relish spreading the tale of your charity to the far reaches of the realm," Janna said. "And you're kind. Otherwise, you wouldn't have ask me so many questions, my lord."

"I see…"

"I can think of no better than my own brother, but he's hardly an option. We're not Targaryens after all." She placed a finger coyly on her bottom lip. "I'll just have to settle for the second best."

"Janna!" Mina called out from my right. She seemed to be pouting. "You said you were going to be fair."

"I am being fair," Janna said. "If you'd stop being so shy…"

"Being shy? Have you seen what I was doing?"

"Copying me, right?"

"No! I have been…"

Was this a historical romance drama? Was I the protagonist in the three-way fight for the throne—or rather, the seat next to the throne? While I had to admit that I was a bit happy to be fought over, all of this—their interest and argument—was still just an attraction that was based on admiration. Could this even be called an attraction? It was more like hearing or reading a story about a heroic knight and then falling in love with that person simply based on that story. It was on the level of someone becoming a celebrity stalker after watching a movie with a certain star in it. Of course, when that balloon bursts, the aftermath wouldn't be pretty. In fact, it could even be worse than a loveless marriage. When the delusion is overturned by reality, that love would flip into hate. The only conclusion would be the end result of having a wife that hated you for not being the "ideal man" who she married. In modern society, there was the option of divorce, but here?

It was more likely that I would be the victim of NTR or assassinated in a murder plot constructed by my venomous wife so that she could marry my much more handsome younger brother.

Would it then be time for me to travel back in time to get a second chance to right all my wrongs and pay back all my debts of revenge from the previous timeline?

Well, life wasn't a television drama, thankfully. Even if we eventually come to hate each other, the most that would come out of it would probably be just sporadic arguing and living in separate rooms. A cold relationship where, if we saw each other in the hallway, we would ignore each other's existence as we walk past each other. Where I would play with my child while ignoring the grumpy woman staring daggers into the back of my head. Yeah, that wasn't my kind of ideal life.

As I sat in silence, listening to the two playfully bicker over me, I picked up my cup and took a drink, all the while ignoring the many glances that the third candidate was sending me from across the table. There was only one real way to settle this, to find out who could truly be a girl that I can live the rest of my life with.

I had to marry all three at the same time!

Haha, no. I wasn't looking to create a harem situation after all that would probably devolve into a yandere situation. Even if I was somehow inclined to that, Westeros was a continent that was practically the territory of the Faith of the Seven. Not even the king could get away with a harem. The most that royalty could get away with were hush hush mistresses who would forever slink in the shadows and under the blanket.

It was possible to date them each individually, but my experience with dating was limited to visual novels, and I was pretty sure none of them dealt with this kind of archaic era. It would probably be a boring visual novel too if it did exist, selling less than a hundred copies. A complete flop. Any historical romance I knew of or was forced to read in class was from the feudal era of Japan, so there was certainly nothing from the medieval period of Europe. Not that I thought any of that would help me even if I got Zaimokuza to bring me some.

How would I know if the girl was right for me? Would it be after the first date? The fifth? The hundredth? If love was so easy, there wouldn't be that many divorces and remarriages. If it was so simple to determine if someone was right for you, then in middle school, I wouldn't have chosen so incorrectly and suffered endlessly. Was love on first sight real? Of course not. It was just infatuation made by something something chemical processes in the brain and such. It was a biological response designed to trick you in thinking that you were in love. It was that same biological response that almost made me transcend the barriers of gender and become Totsuka-oriented for my sexual preference back in high school.

In fact, if I thought for a second that Totsuka would say yes to my marriage proposal, I would have sailed back to Oldtown this instant. I didn't mind even an arranged marriage, as long as it was with Totsuka. Unfortunately, I knew his answer, and the Lord of Hightower would not arrange anything without his daughter's approval—a very progressive kind of thinker, that man was in this kind of era. Though, that same problem assured me that Totsuka wouldn't be married off randomly unless she wanted it which was good. With Totsuka's attitude right now, it was doubtful that something like that would happen. It was possible that she could change in the future, but I wasn't in a position to wait, not when Tywin was dead-set on arranging a marriage for me. There was room to argue, room for compromise, but not much; if there was more, then I would probably have been able to get out of that marriage arrangement with that "nice" girl in Dorne all those years ago instead of wasting half my life thinking that I was going to marry the suntanned girl. Well, if anything, Tywin seemed to double-down on getting me married to counteract my reputation as a Red Faith adherent. Any objections that I voiced had been shut down by his long, unyielding glare.

I would like to say that I kept my dignity at those moments, but that was far from the truth. If anything, I would say that I was a poor choice for a dimensional traveler, one that only Zaimokuza could have chosen. He could have chosen an old genius engineer, a top-rated assassin, or a world-class politician. Instead, he chose me. Was I better than any of them? The answer, of course, is a resounding no.

Then again, it was unlikely any of them would want to turn this world into an otaku paradise like what Zaimokuza wanted. Not that I really wanted to do that, but I had to use what I know, and what I know wasn't very much. It didn't help that the books that Zaimokuza occasionally brought back were more oriented towards his own goal.

Was he trying to create a world where there would be an endless production of light novels for him to read or a world where he would have a huge audience to read his shitty light novels?

I felt fingers pinching my left thigh. Blinking out of my thoughts, I glanced to the left to find Janna's smiling face. She was certainly smiling, though it seemed a little odd now, a little out of place like that sense of wrongness I would get when I see a doll that was just a bit too shy of realistic. That space of uncanny valley that would make you think for a moment that what you were looking at wasn't human. In other words, it was the face of a girl hiding her anger behind a smile.

But Hachiman, how could you even tell? Did everyone forget that—in my previous life—I had a nearly absent working mother and a nosy sister? This was the kind of face that would appear on their face when I ate the wrong cup of pudding in the fridge.

"My lord, now that you're with us again, we have an important question for you," Janna began. "Which of us is prettier?"

Was I your arch-nemesis in a previous life?

Of course, I didn't voice that out loud. It wouldn't make sense anyways since my previous life was in Japan, and if I had a previous incarnation before that, it would definitely be on Earth rather than this world. Still, the sentiment still stood, clear as day. I could not answer this question. Well, I could, but it had consequences that reached far beyond just a simple question.

If this was a visual novel, this would be a branching choice. Did I really have to set off flags? I wasn't ready to choose yet!

This was a timed question, and the longer I delayed, the more worse it would be even if they did not voice the consequences out loud or even show any indication. I had to think fast. In my mind, I went through my options.

My choices were:

1) "You're all pretty." A fairly standard choice that the laymen would choose because it would seem like the safest, but it was actually the worst choice. It was the choice that would lead to the "normal" ending in any decent visual novel, the ending where the protagonist would end up with no one at all. Basically, a newbie choosing this choice would be faced with negative relationship points all across the entire board. Of course, I had to cross this one out.

2) "I think that Blank is the prettiest." This would be the choice you would take when you were aiming for a particular girl. The problem was that I haven't chosen any of them yet simply because I didn't really know them. I had known these girls for a couple of hours at most, and I had tuned out half of their discussions. Choosing this would be pretty much choosing a route. There was no saving and loading from here. This choice was obviously out.

3) "My sister looks prettier." Should I go take a rope and hang myself with it? Why was this choice even here? Was my brain working too fast that I had a meltdown? Not only would I look like a sis-con, it would piss off all my marriage candidates. This was even worse than choice #1.

4) "I haven't known any of you long enough." They would then reply with: "We're just talking about our appearance, silly." After that, it would be back to square one. This was just delaying the inevitable.

5) "I'm still trying to decide on who the mother of my children should be." Bold. It would certainly distract them from their question, but there was a steep requirement to use this method. That was having a handsome enough face. Of course, I didn't qualify. Overruled.

6) "I think—

I ran out of time. The three of them were looking at me expectantly, and I could hear the nearby conversations quieting down. If I didn't end this here, not only would it put me in a bad position with the three, but more of the hall would be listening in. So, I did what I did best.

I spoke my mind.

"Don't ask me to answer that," I said. "It's not just about your appearance. There are other factors that come into it. If you ask that question of a man in love with his wife, then even if the most beautiful princess was standing in front of him, he would say his wife is the prettiest. Those feelings would change his perspective. He would look at things differently. Therefore, it's not a question that I can answer."

"Are you…in love with someone, my lord…?" Janna asked in a strained tone.

"Well, no."

"Then answer the question." Her fingernails dug into my thigh, even as her steely tone reached my ears. This was a voice that would broker no argument or negotiation. I supposed that I had no choice then.

"I'm still trying to decide on who the mother of my children should be."

It ended as badly as I thought it would.

As expected—

Huh? Why were they blushing? Why was Janna looking away, as if she was a tsundere trying to hide her dere dere side? Why was Mina looking down at her plate with a shyness more befitting of Victara? In fact, why was Victara staring straight at me and quietly panting with her lips agape? I didn't understand this. I couldn't understand this. Did I invest points in my charisma stat without my notice or was this the power of status and money? If I put that prize at the end of a tightrope, would they walk it like debt-overwhelmed gamblers? Not that I would since I wasn't an evil, unreasonable business magnate.

Still, the point still stood that they were acting as if I met the steep requirements. Either their collective acting was really good or my face was handsome enough that it surpassed the requirements.

…they must have practiced together a lot.

Most people would think it was the latter, but I had too much wisdom and trauma to be tricked easily like that. I had seen my own face in the mirror, and if I were to compare it to Jaime, it was obvious that he would chosen for the role of prince on a white horse. There was no contest at all, even though we were part of the same triplets. It was like I was composed of the leftover scraps after they were done making Jaime and Cersei. There was no way that I would fall into that trap and become a narcissist.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the most handsomest of them all?

Rhaegar, of course.

He should go die in a fire.

The evening ended soon after that with an awkward atmosphere.

~o~

A/N: I really am spending a lot of time on this particular year. Well, no worries. Things will pick up.


	17. Chapter 15: Garden

Chapter 15: Garden

~o~

It had been some weeks since I first came to Highgarden. In those weeks, I was supposed to enjoy my time and get to know my future bride. Do you know which of the girls I spent the most time with? Simply, it was…

"See this here? This is a petunia, or at least, I think that is what my sister calls it. I don't really know what it is, but it's certainly something to look at!" A muscular man wrapped an arm around my back, his hand settling on my shoulder even as his face became the definition of carefree sunshine.

Mace Tyrell.

Wait, that wasn't one of the marriage candidates, right? Besides, he wasn't a girl, right? Indeed, he was a married man a decade older than me.

No, this wasn't the start of a yaoi doujinshi that Ebina would draw. My life hadn't become that rotten.

That didn't stop him from trying to become my best friend ever. This was the type of man that could only be categorized as a flunky, a man so devoid of any personality besides sucking up that it bordered on insanity. Every time I spent some time with one of the girls in some pre-arranged date, he would always manage to show up and interject himself into the conversation, despite attempts from my marriage candidates to get him to leave. Well, if I could say one thing, it was that the siblings were close enough that there were no repercussions from the not-so-polite attempts to get him to vacate the premise. And by not polite, I mean that they were practically screaming and yelling at him to leave by the end of the first week. The only reason he wasn't under house arrest—or bedroom arrest—was because Tywin had a hand in it. As if to encourage him, Tywin spoke to Luthor and subsequently got the Lord of Highgarden to simply allow Mace's acts to go on.

How did I know this?

That was because Tywin told me that to my face and commanded me to play nice. Commanded, not asked. As overbearing as Tywin could be at times—and as stern as his words tend to be—the amount of times that he had actually given me an explicit order was something that could be counted on one hand. I had seen him do it with everyone else, my siblings included, but for me, he usually stated what I should act like or do, though these tended to be more advice or suggestions than anything he would enforce. This time, though, was different. It surprised me so much that I automatically agreed before my brain even caught up. Not that I would have disagreed even if it did.

Though, times like these made me wish I had.

"I'd ask my wife about these things, but—gorgeous flower that she is—she is a little lacking in the head."

So says the pot.

"Don't misunderstand me. Hightower girls are a majestic lot with a valiant upbringing, but they are maybe a little too valiant. Emasculates us men, isn't it so?" Mace asked rhetorically. "That's why Tyrell girls, pure and demure, are the very essence of feminine wiles—virtues! Virtues, that's what I meant. With such pretty little heads on their shoulders, full of scholarly…uh scholarly things, I guarantee you that you'll find no better wife to raise your children than here in Highgarden. Your Lannister and Tyrell children!"

I was never going to live that phrase down, was I?

"Indeed, indeed. Janna and Mina had taken a liking to you. Once an arrangement has been set, I'm sure they wouldn't be so abstinent as to not let you try out the honey pot before the ceremony. Maybe even put a highborn child in there!" Mace's voice bellowed out loudly, as if he couldn't control it. Many of the guards were peeking my way, probably to watch my reaction more than anything else. I was also sure that anyone who had even the slight inclination to listen in would have already heard all of this, even beyond the boundaries of the garden. That was just how loud he was being about topics that he really, really shouldn't be loud about. "Don't worry. Unlike other brother-in-laws, I'll come around from time to time. They'll be calling me Uncle Mace in no time."

Just how often was he planning on visiting Casterly Rock?!

"Don't get that look on your face. You don't have to worry," Mace said. "You don't have to call me uncle, brother!"

I don't want to call you brother either.

"We're alike, you and I. Like petals on a flower. Like pork to a chop." He smiled, even as he spouted out nonsense. "Together, we can achieve anything. With the men and supplies of the Reach as well as the gold and weapons of the Westerlands, I'd say we're more than a match for even the crown!"

"Is that something you should really be saying loudly here?"

"Nonsense! Who's going to listen in?"

I gave a pointed glance at the guards and servants some distance away who were blatantly staring at us. They weren't even trying to hide it. Just how used to Mace's antics were they?

"All loyal to House Tyrell, and since I'm the heir, that means they're loyal to me." With his arm still around me, he patted my shoulder. "You worry too much. My mother is meticulous in this; she's personally spoken to practically the entire castle. If a spy somehow manages to get in…" He swung his other arm lightly into a chop in front of him. "You may not be aware, but my prowess with the sword is well known here. They call me the Bladed Petal of the Reach."

Somehow, I doubted it.

"I once slew five—no, ten bandits in a row on the borders of the Reach. That time, I dare say that I channeled the Warrior into me," Mace said. "Cut through them like chaff before a…before a…" He froze, his brain working to try to think what it was before giving up a moment later. "A sword! Well, it doesn't matter what the peasantry uses. What matters is what us noblemen wield!"

"The word you are looking for is 'scythe.'"

"Peasant weaponry is of no concern."

"That's a farming tool," I said. "Were they wearing armor?"

"That's…" Mace looked awkward for a moment before he laughed it off. "What armor could stand before such determination? I dare say that I might have been overwhelmed, had I not my trusty steed and sword at my side."

"What weapons were they using?"

"Devious four-prong tridents, axes with a crescent blade, and halberds with a sideway blade. Those bandits were truly clever with these nefarious designs."

"Pitchforks, scythes, and hoes."

"Ah, so that's what a scythe is. No wonder the chaff cannot stand before it."

"…do you even know what chaff is?"

"You don't know? It's a good thing you asked, otherwise you'd have embarrassed yourself in front of my father and the ladyfolk!" He leaned in again, as if it was a secret. "They're the smallfolk, of course."

Of course.

"It's almost time for me to meet your mother for tea." Reigning in my exasperation, I moved to the side, escaping from his arm that had been settled on my shoulder. Not that it was hard, seeing that he wasn't expecting it. Well, I didn't think he would stop me even if he did know. Mace's arm dropped limply to his side.

"Is it?" He gazed forlornly at me. "You'll be leaving in a few days. I'm sure my mother will understand if you prefer to spend more time with me instead."

I stared at him, wondering if he was serious. It was only a moment later that I concluded that he was completely and utterly serious. Left speechless, I did the only thing that I could do.

I walked away.

"I'll be here, just a shout away if you ever get bored with tea!"

~o~

The gardens of Highgarden were truly magnificent to behold. A marvel that would infuse a sense of peace and serenity, with colors that would dazzle many and serenade the rest.

And it did dazzle me, for a time. There was something different about seeing this kind of manicured garden in person that filled me with a sense of melancholy. Of course, after spending weeks here, I had become used to its beauty. That was the thing about art. Even the most enchanting artwork—with incredible photoshop shading—would only catch my attention for a period of time. After that, I needed more and more wondrous artwork to satisfy my needs, which was why I had a hidden folder filled with pictures of certain fetishes which will remain forever unspoken that kept growing and growing as time went on. I imagined that if the same were to happen here, the garden would take up the entire region. As it was, I had gotten more or less apathetic to the garden in general now.

Though, there was not much to do as I sat under a canopy within the garden. The chair was comfortable enough with its cushion, but the person who sat across the table with the tea sets on it was the one who demanded attention. That was because she was an older woman who was currently the wife of the Lord of Highgarden: Olenna Tyrell. The woman commanded a presence, similar to what a principal or director would have, though in her case, it was a notch or two higher. Or at least, that was what it felt like. She brought up her tea cup to her lips, but instead of drinking it, she merely sniffed at it as she swirled the cup.

"These tea leaves are some of the finest you can get in Westeros," Olenna said. "I should hope you don't let it go to waste."

I picked up my tea cup and brought it up to my nose. It smelled like boiled water. I took a sip. It tasted like boiled water.

"It tastes great."

"I wasn't born yesterday, child." Olenna tilted her cup and swung it to the side, spraying the watery content out into the rose bushes nearby. "If it can't be palated, then it's best served as fertilizer."

I merely set my tea cup back down on the saucer. While I knew that she did it to allow me to do the same, I wasn't going to follow along with that. The abrupt change of pace and the strangely accommodating attitude could have given her the feeling of a person who was naturally nice, but the way that her eyes seemed to stay stony didn't sit well with me. As a fan of spotting masks, I couldn't deny my instinct or my truth-seeing eyes; she was playing with me. Trying to get me off-guard or evaluating me from my response. I wasn't sure why, but it was antagonistic enough to annoy me. She probably saw the change in my attitude since her smile slowly dropped off her face.

"I assumed you know why I summoned you here," Olenna said.

"I don't," I answered truthfully.

"Yes, that is good to hear. Very good to hear." She nodded her head almost exaggeratedly, even as she kept her eyes on me. "It tells me that a gold dragon didn't happen to land into someone's hand in exchanged for loose lips."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

"I hope you've been enjoying your weeks in Highgarden since the last time we spoke," she said. "The girls simply cannot stop talking about you. What you said, what you ate, what privy you ambushed. Those silly girls. If I didn't know better, I'd think they would want to smell it."

I had known they were practically stalking me the entire time I have been here, seemingly appearing randomly to chat. The conversations tended to be me listening in on whatever they wanted to talk about and then placing some key words at particular moments in their monologue to give off the illusion that I was still listening to them. The whole problem with that was the fact that news from outside the castle walls took a fairly long time to travel between regions. That meant that each girl liked to rely on nearly the exact same noteworthy news to discuss with me so I would have to listen to the same thing three separate times.

But Hachiman, why didn't you interrupt them and say that you already heard about it? Well, why don't you do it?! Have you ever seen the way they seem to get crestfallen—or teary-eyed in Victara's case—and try to come up with something new on the spot, which tended—more often than not—to be about the weather. That awkward atmosphere that would soon follow with the girl eventually leaving in despair and you feeling guilty that you pretty much caused it.

"Oh, don't take that face, child. We both know that your farts will never be as fragrant as roses, even if my girls assure you otherwise." A maid at the side came to the table and poured a new cup of tea for her. Olenna, for her part, picked up the cup and took a slow sip of the tea, as if savoring it. "Tea?"

"No, thanks."

"A pity. This batch is actually brewed as properly as the previous." Olenna took another sip before she put down the cup. "My daughters are very taken with you."

"All I did was listen."

"And isn't that remarkable?" She shook her head. "If my eldest listened as well as you, I'd be satisfied despite how much of an oaf he is. Did you know that he's married to a Hightower girl with only butterflies in her head against my objections? It was a love match they say, but I will bet the only thing going through that boy's head is that dangling thing between his legs."

"It's the mistakes of youth."

"Mace is hardly a boy anymore." Olenna lifted her tea-cup up, but she paused for a moment before she rolled her eyes. "Even though he acts like one."

"He is the heir to Highgarden," I stated, more for the fact that this wasn't a situation where I could say anything else. Even though she was complaining about her son, her attitude would probably flip completely if an outsider did the same.

"Yes, due solely to the fact that he is my firstborn and only son, that oaf will be the Lord of Highgarden once Luthor is gone and buried." She finally took a sip of her tea before she placed it down delicately on the saucer. "I so do hope that I'll be dust and bones by then. Seeing Highgarden manhandled like his own personal toybox will be more than I can stomach."

"He seems to listen to you well enough."

"He listens when I'm watching him, but the moment I turn my eyes away, my words will fall out of his ears like drool," Olenna said exasperatedly. "Am I to spend the rest of my days being a raven? Will I need to follow him around and perch on his shoulder, pecking him on the neck and leaving droppings on him when he leaves unsatisfactory results, like I know he will? Shall I watch over him his entire life? Highgarden is just as likely to become Lowgarden if the qualities of his person were any indication."

She shook her head, as if in regret.

"But enough about that oaf. Tell me, child." Olenna leaned forward and dropped her chin on top of her folded fingers. "Which of my daughters are you interested in?"

"Daughters? Not going to include Victara?"

"If your father is any indication, the poor girl doesn't have a chance," she said. "He only acquiesced to her inclusion at my request, but I'm sure he spoke to you about it."

"He didn't."

"Really now? I'm surprised," Olenna said without any bit of surprise appearing in her expression. "I suppose that you Lannisters, with all your roaring, have never gotten around to whispering. Well, that makes this easier then. Do tell me which of my girls have caught your eye."

Janna, Mina, Victara. At this point, I had—even with Mace's interruptions—gotten to know the girls over the past few weeks. Janna was an outgoing girl, talkative about everything and nothing. Not outgoing like you would find her in a track club, but outgoing in that you would probably find her surrounding by a bunch of girls at a karaoke parlor. It wasn't a bad thing, but they weren't usually the type that I got along with, mainly due to the fact that those kind of girls would never have invited me out for karaoke. She had a bit of a desperation kind of aura around her, enough that she would probably have asked for a private karaoke booth just for her and her target. Instead of repulsing me, it gave the feeling that I should probably save her from becoming a Christmas cake. Well, she wasn't that close to that age, but the prime for a woman in Westeros was shorter. She was almost like Miura—well, that was if Miura was approaching Hiratsuka-sensei's age and getting desperate.

Mina was like that naive girl that tried to act more older than she was by imitating someone else, but not quite understanding enough to do it correctly. She was fumbling about, making mistakes without realizing it, yet when they were pointed out, she brushed it off casually, as if it was unimportant and to be glossed over. There was something about all of that which triggered a sense of nostalgia and, along with it, a sense of annoyance. Annoyance? But Hachiman, what could possibly be annoying about it? It was simple. She was the very definition of youth. The constant trial and error without a care for any of the consequences, brushing it off with the excuse that it was just a mistake from youth. What personality was there behind all that imitation used to try to find their "real" self? Did I have enough gems to put in the gacha and find out what random personality comes out in the end? I had gotten the sense that she didn't really know what she wanted, even about me.

Victara was a girl who you would find hidden in the corner of a classroom, neither talking nor participating in any group due to her excessive shyness. I had gotten the notion that she was a very private person, the type you would see reading alone in the library or eating lunch in the restroom stall. She was optimistic yet not at the same time, as if she was constantly trying to keep her expectations and hopes lower. I wouldn't say it was wrong, since she had the least chance of all the girls to gain Tywin's approval. However, that was the trick; she wasn't going to shy forever. You would think that a shy, cute girl would remain that way, but it was a facade in a similar vein to the cutesy act that performed by Iroha. These were the kind of girls that brought up that feeling that you had to protect them, yet if you stood in front of them to stave off the horrors, you wouldn't even be aware when she finally creeps up to you from behind. It was the equivalent of a Trojan horse. There could be riches in there or there could be an army of sweaty warriors with swords, waiting for their chance to strike. In that sense, she was the same as Mina: a gamble.

Even with what I thought of as my discerning eye, I could only uncover the mask of what I knew. Romance—in any expectation of the concept—wasn't something that I had experience with. Even diving in the collection of knowledge that I did possess, in regards to what anime and video games had shown me about romance, they were inherently flawed. There was often some grand adventure like defeating the demon king with the romance being a side plot. That was the fast type of romance, conducted with the suspension bridge effect where romantic feelings would blossom if both participants were in a stressful and dangerous situation. My other repertoire concerning romance consisted of slice of life visual novels with dating and eventually gaining stronger feelings as time went on. That required time. Time that I didn't have.

That left me with only one choice.

"I was thinking about Janna." It wasn't the best choice, but it was the only choice where I had some idea of what I was getting into. While she did have somewhat of a mask, the personality underneath should be near enough that it wouldn't be too different. Honestly, she was not the type of girl that I had imagined that I would marry, but then again, I had no expectation about marrying any kind of girl, in this life and the previous. Well, besides a girl being someone capable of accepting a house-husband, though that probably wasn't going to be a problem here.

"I imagine she'll be pleased."

"You don't sound happy."

"I can hardly say that I feel the same when there are questions that remain unanswered," Olenna said. "Seeing as how we will be family soon, I see no issue with speaking my mind. Your father assures me that your dalliance with that foreign religion is temporary, but anyone with a head sitting on their neck can see otherwise. Perhaps not the oaf lord and oaf heir, but anyone of any consequence."

"And that concerns you?"

"As concerned as any mother would be to marrying their daughter to a fanatic," she retorted. "I waited until now not to frighten you or your father off because, despite my misgivings, a marriage between the Great Houses of the Reach and the Westerlands is the most ideal alliance."

"I have…reasons…"

"Left, right, leave us. Take the maids with you as well and have the guardsmen stand outside the garden." One of the bodyguards started, glancing towards her.

"But my lady—"

"Enough! What do you expect a young boy and an old lady to do? Do you think me so decrepit that I can't fight off the lusty hands of a young boy? I'd be flattered by the attention, but Luthor still very much satisfies me in the bed chamber. A boy with a cock not yet grown will do little for me," Olenna said. "Be gone. I'll not hear another word. And take my oaf of a son away while you're at it; all he's been doing this entire time is staring at me from afar."

At her command, the two identical bodyguards—including the one who protested—gave a light bow and promptly left with the nearby servants in tow. There seemed to be a protest from Mace when they got to him—an argument half in bloom—before the two bodyguards simply took an arm each and dragged him away. Only when they were far enough out of hearing range did Olenna speak.

"Indulge me."

"You don't look that old."

"I don't mean in that way, but do keep them coming." Her expression became somber. "You do not strike me as being of the same ilk as the High Septon, but that just means that you have a different reason for supporting the Red Faith so publicly. Well, what is it? Greed, maybe? Money? Power? Lust? That red-headed girl who oft stands on the deck of your ship, looking yearningly in your general direction, is a pretty one."

"You won't believe me."

"I may or I may not. The Sevens know that I can't see the future and not for a lack of trying."

It never enter my head to lie to her. That was because I would eventually have to tell the truth, to prepare everyone for the apocalypse that I knew was coming. If I lied before then, it would be much harder to convince them afterwards. In light of everything, I should be stating my intentions outright, but now that I had come to this point, I was hesitating. It felt like I was holding up a sign that proclaimed that the end of the world was coming while everyone walking by would give me a wide berth on account of my inherent insanity. It would be easier to convince people when there was a crisis already in progress, but by that time, it would be far too late to do anything.

Still, did I really need to? If the Others were as formidable as Zaimokuza said they were, then why did the war take an entire generation? Shouldn't it had been finished in a few years. Maybe decades at most. The fact that it lasted at least sixty years felt like it was either the White Walkers just playing around or they were seriously incompetent. Just because they were zombie overlords didn't make them as brainless as zombies. Or at least, that was what it was supposed to be. If this was a web novel, the twist would be that they were former humans and that they were having copious amount of bedroom relations with random intact zombies. It would even be ideal for me, if I didn't care about humanity. As it was, that option—if it even existed—would only lead me to guilt, delusion, hallucination, and eventually self-destruction. It was a pain when you knew yourself so much that you could predict some semblance of your own future.

Putting that derail aside, from what I can guess, from how long the Long Night lasted and what Zaimokuza could vaguely remember of it, was that the proliferation of dragonglass deterred the zombie masters from taking to the field, forcing them to only rely on their undead hordes. If that was the case, it would be enough just to spread around dragonglass to deter the direct intervention of the White Walkers, which would prevent the worst losses. However, there would still be intense losses. There was no way to stop that unless everyone knew that they were coming. And it wasn't just in Westeros. The Long Night was a global terror event. From Pentos to Yi Ti, there had been legends. Azor Ahai, Hyrkoon the Hero, Yin Tar, Neferion, and Eldric Shadowchaser. Different names for the same person. Considering the guy sacrificed his wife to make the sword, it was probably a guilt-induced trip around the world to make the sacrifice worthwhile.

I wanted a perfect victory, that one hundred percent completion. That was an impossible task. Even if I work myself to the bone, people were going to die. If I protected only those closest to me, if I allowed in-turn for Essos to fall, it wouldn't be long before the White Walkers freeze the waters of the Narrow Sea and cross it with their armies into Westeros. Still, the spread of the Red Faith in Essos was far higher than here so they stood a good chance of stalling, if not sending back the tides, as long as they were properly supplied. The thing about zombie armies was that it was a cascade effect. As long as a plague was nipped in the bud or quarantined, it wouldn't be a problem. Finding its origin was a whole different issue. From Westeros, it was in the North. From Essos, it was in the East. A task like that would be far simpler if airplanes existed. As it was, it was pretty much on the impossible side. You couldn't expect an army to search for long in the icelands of the North or in a desert with a name like the Grey Wastes. That was just asking for mutiny.

So I had to shore up what I had at home.

"The Long Night is coming." It felt weird to be saying that, to be telling that someone who was likely skeptical or outright disbelieving. It was like telling a teacher that your little sister stole your homework. Even if it was true, it wasn't like they were going to believe it anyways, at least not at first. "It's coming within this lifetime."

"I had heard that you were quite the reader, but writing from the Age of Heroes are saturated with exaggerations." Olenna picked up her tea cup, the temperature of the drink starting to become lukewarm in the mild weather. "Myths and legends. Fairy tales from a time far gone. They say bookish boys are attracted to the unnatural, and if you and Prince Rhaegar are anything to go by, the saying is true."

"I'm going to show you something. You might want to put the cup down or you might spill it," I said as I pulled back the sleeve of my right arm, exposing my skin halfway to my elbow.

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Watch." It only took a moment of concentration—something that had taken me long periods of practice to master—before my hand erupted into flames. The orange fire flickered with the movements of the wind, even as it danced around my hand, giving me nothing but a warm sensation. Her expression was stoic, but her eyes wavered and her hands shook. To her credit, that only occurred for a moment before she regained her demeanor.

"A decent parlor trick."

"It isn't." With my other hand, I reached across the table and took the teacup from her relenting hands. Bringing it over, I held it up as I placed my burning hand under it. It was at enough of a distance that it wouldn't melt the cup—or at least, I didn't think it would—but it was close enough that after a couple dozen seconds, steams began to emit from the tea inside. Only after that did I reach back over and place the teacup down on the saucer in front of her.

Olenna stared down at the cup, though I couldn't tell how she felt about it. It was only after a few moments that she finally reached down and picked it up. After feeling the many sides of the cup, as if to test its warmth, she brought it up to her lips and took a sip of the tea. After the sip and after she pulled back the cup, her tongue flickered out momentarily, as if to taste the heated sensation on her lips.

"Do you still think that it's myth and legends?"

"Yes," Olenna said without hesitation. "But I'll keep a more open mind about witchcraft. I suppose there's merit to the septon's talks after all."

"I see." It was frustrating, but not unexpected. I didn't think it would be easy, and as I expected, I was right. A person firmly entrenched in their opinion would have a hard time believing otherwise. I certainly wouldn't believe in Susanoo until he was right in front of me, no matter how many Shinto priests preach his existence. Convincing her would be like trying to convince myself, the "me" that never went through all this reincarnation mess. How was I supposed to convince her to believe me? The answer was simple.

I didn't even try.

"Believe what you want. I know what I saw, and I know what I have to do, but you have your answer now, don't you?" I extinguished the flames on my hand.

"I do," Olenna said with a reluctant nod. "But child, your zealotry is misguided. Even if it were in the service of the Seven, I'd say the same. Myths, prophecies, legends, and magic. They're all tales that should be buried and forgotten; all they lead to is madness. Your supposed doomsday will pass me by, and I'll simply be sitting here, drinking my tea on a day like any other with nary a worry. Though, maybe a bit chillier than normal."

"I'll be glad if it's wrong."

"Then we have that in common, in the least." She was still holding up the cup, feeling the warmth of it in her hands. "You should teach Left and Right how to do your fire trick. It'd be a marvelous present for your new in-laws."

"It's not something that can be taught."

"A pity." She placed the cup down on the saucer.

"Are you planning to reign in the alliance agreement?"

"If I was, then I'd have confronted you before you set your eyes on Janna. I care little about your obsession with misguided prophecies, as long as it does not concern the Reach or my daughter. Still, you shouldn't be so concerned with something that most likely will not occur even after I am dust and bones. The present demands your attention. You should be paying attention to Rickard Stark."

"The Lord of House Stark?"

"Are you asking or stating?" When I didn't reply, she continued speaking. "Yes, yes, the Lord of Winderfell, Warden of the North. One and the very same."

"Did something happen?"

"Tell me. What do you think of the alliances that the Starks are making?"

It wasn't a hard question. The news was widespread as it was. The four kingdoms in the north and east—the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and Stormlands—are smaller and more desolate than the Westerlands and the Reach. In consideration of that, the Targaryens had never paid much attention to these small constituencies, traditionally putting most of their attention and favor towards Westerlands and the Reach. The only kingdoms that suffered worse was Dorne and the Iron Islands, kingdoms that were practically ignored in most eras and simply ruled themselves. In that regard, having some of their family relations become friends during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, they sought to seal their alliance through marriage and fostering. It was an intricate enough web that I didn't want to get into, but sufficient to say, it bound all four kingdoms together into an alliance through marriage with the exception of the Vale, though I couldn't imagine them abstaining from the alliance in any case.

"It's not an alliance for military protection, and it's not an economic agreement since they need to import food from the Reach," I said. "It's a political bloc, so they can have more influence with the crown. They can try to grab more benefits that is more traditionally reserved for the Westerlands and the Reach and threaten the crown with sanctions if they implement unfavorable policies."

"My, my. What an astounding grasp of politics for a child who had never been to court. I'd have offered my daughter in marriage if she weren't already arranged to you," Olenna said with a casual air. "Did you know that the Riverlands made overtures to your father? The second son to the second daughter."

"This is the first I've heard of it." I didn't bother to hide the frown that came to my face.

"Is that so? I'd have thought it was your idea, to join the Stark's ambitions."

"Ambitions?"

"It is the first time that a Lord of Winterfell has fully turned his eyes to the politics of the south instead of the north," Olenna said. "Fueled by foolishness and rumors. They say that Targaryens without dragons are just simply madmen. Flesh and blood without scales and fire, who can be slain by the touch of a blade. I imagine that those words have embolden Lord Rickard Stark."

"Rebellion?"

"No, even he isn't that foolish," she responded. "Defiance."

"Withhold taxes to demand better treatment?" No, it couldn't be that simple. As I thought more on it, I turned my mind toward the end goal. Where would it end? If not a coup, then there was only one conclusion. "Self-governance. They want to rule over themselves, instead of by the will of a fickle king."

"I had hardly given you any clues, and yet you're correct. I doubt Mace would have gotten it on his twenty-fifth try," Olenna said wistfully. "Dorne has prospered, despite being a small kingdom with infertile land and an inconsequential population. That is due to the policies that they implement for themselves. Why then couldn't the North or the Vale or the Riverlands or the Stormlands do the same? Why, why, indeed."

"No king would allow that. The only reason that the Iron Island and Dorne are left alone is because they aren't worth it and it has been like this since ages ago. Even if the kingdoms were to suddenly become barren, they would still not allow it out of principle."

"And your father doesn't realize this," she said. "Normally, I wouldn't interfere, but you will become my son-in-law soon enough. It's best to keep the Westerlands out of the coming firestorm."

"Thank you for the advice." I bowed my head.

"Oh, I didn't do it for free." Olenna gave a mischievous smile. "When you leave in a few days, you'll be taking Janna and her attendants with you. She will be exuberant enough at your decision that she'll be unbearable otherwise, and I imagine that her sister and cousin will need time to get over their heartbreak."

"I don't see why not."

"Good. It'll let you spend more time with your betroth and allow her to learn the duties that are expected of a Lady of Casterly Rock."

After a few more pleasantries, I took my leave. It was a short walk before I got to the gate, but the moment that I took a step out of it, I found a bunch of guards—including Left and Right—standing outside along with quite a few servants. If it were only them, then I would have made my way past. However, the gaggle of people included two particular people. Mace Tyrell standing right besides Janna who was smiling from ear to ear. It honestly looked unnerving. Another glance around showed me that Mina and Victara were nowhere around. It looked like the news had already gotten out, though I couldn't tell if it was from one of the servants that had been nearby or Mace himself who may have good enough hearing to overhear it even from that much of a distance away when he was in the garden. Either way, it looked like I wasn't going to get out of here anytime soon. As I stepped forward, I could see the faces in the large and expectant crowd who were waiting eagerly for me to give a speech despite the fact that I was as skilled at speeches as I was at having a handsome face. Meaning I wasn't, if that wasn't obvious enough.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I ran.

~o~

A/N: Still sick with the cold, but I am getting better. Updates may still be slower until I completely get over my cold. 


	18. Chapter ?: Living On

Chapter ?: Living On

~o~

I never thought I would grow old in a place like this. In a world like this.

As I unhurriedly put on the elaborate robe and tied the strings that held it together, as I stared into the mirror that reflected the me of now, the piercing dead fish eyes nestled within crow's feet that stared back at me with an expression that I could barely recognize, but I couldn't deny the intimidating regal look that it gave off almost subconsciously. The wrinkles that lined my face were a result of the stresses that had encompassed my life for the decades that I had worked so hard and so long for. A work that I felt some regrets about.

"What was it all for?"

All the preparations that I had worked for. The nation that I had plunged into chaos. The sacrifices that I had made. All of it was done to prepare for the apocalypse, an apocalyptic event that had come and gone without a dust of it remaining.

I should be happy, right? I won. However, it wasn't the fact that it was over that I was dissatisfied with. No, it was more because of how it ended.

I had hired a group of faceless men on the off-chance that they might get an opportunity to help out. They were just one of the many, many mercenary groups that I had brought over which included the Golden Company. I just never expected them to kill the Night King.

Apparently, the Night King wasn't a very good multi-tasker. Two distracted him with a dragonglass arrow each, shot in sequence, while the third shot him in the ankle with Valyrian steel. And that was it. All of the Night King's horde and his brethren perished, just like that.

If that was all it took, why did I even need to do all this preparation?

"Well, aren't you going to answer me, Zaimokuza?!"

The fireplace flickered and lashed about, and out walked a rather chubby-looking Japanese man. Wearing glasses and a messy stock of white hair, he nevertheless had a jovial smile on his face that was accentuated by the glamorous red clothes with gold and black trimmings that adorned his body.

"It's in preparation for our next great adventure."

"That's a lie. That's a complete lie."

"Okay, even I didn't think he would go down that easily," he said. "But still, I'm serious. We'll go to another world, but this time, we'll be an adventuring duo or I could be your twin brother!"

"I never said I was going." Fixing the last string on my clothes, I turned to face him.

"I can wait," Zaimokuza said. "There's always worlds that need saving, and it's not like time is an issue for me."

"Won't your wife get angry at you for running away?"

"It's better to do and ask forgiveness later."

"She's going to chain you up for a thousand years, you know?"

"It'll be fine, it'll be fine." Even though he said that with his usual enthusiasm, I had known him long enough to see the subtle flinching. His voice was a whisper for the next part. "And it's more like a hundred, not a thousand."

"Excuses won't save you."

"She won't be too harsh on me. After all, I'm the reason that it became the Faith of the Eight." For the first time this evening, Zaimokuza's expression took on a more serious look. "I'm not rushing you. Take your time. After everything is over, we can even visit Komachi. I'm sure she would be happy to see you again. I have enough prayer power to do that now, and even more by the time everything is done."

The name brought back memories. Happy memories. However, at this point, I couldn't even remember what her face looked like anymore. The images of Japan, to me, were fleeting, like the blur of a dreamscape. The pictures in frames that lined my bedroom's walls were the images of Japan that I could remember, from the tall buildings to the Shinto temples to the calm river that I used to walk by on my way home. However, the details of each were lacking, and the people depicted in them were faceless. By the time I got artists to render my memories into sketches and paintings, it was too late to salvage them. What colors were Komachi's eyes? Did Yukinoshita ever act shy? What did Yuigahama's smile look like?

I had replaced these irreplaceable memories with knowledge. From how to create more crop yield to mining technology to forging techniques, I had a broad spectrum of technical information that had helped me get to where I am today. If I looked out the window, I would see that, beyond the bridge that connects Casterly Rock to the mainland, that every part of the land, as far as my eyes could perceive, were filled with buildings, some with black smoke drifting upward from their chimneys. It was a massive city that spread out from its humble beginnings at Lannisport. There was no way to stop slums from popping up, not in a city that big, without turning it into a surveillance state, but I mitigated as much trouble as I could using history from Earth as guidelines. I had made so many projects in its from the sewer system to a proper bathhouse, enough to attract so many people to the city from across the continent and even from Essos, such that the city had grown to sizes far larger than even King's Landing. Far larger than the capital city will ever be.

"Maybe," I simply answered. Did I want another life beyond this one? I wasn't sure.

"Think about it," Zaimokuza said, as if I hadn't already been thinking about it. With a wave of his arms, he dissipated into a flourish of flames.

"Tell your daughter I said hi."

"Will do." The disembodied voice, barely a whisper, lingered in the air for a little while.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what I should be doing. It took a little bit to reset my mind and get back into the motion of things since there was still work that needed to be done. However, as my hand rested on the doorknob, I took a last glance back to my rooms, to the portrait of myself: a middle school student standing awkwardly in between two girls and an effeminate boy. The only one with a face was the awkward student with dead fish eyes.

"…I'll be going."

Opening the door, I took a step outside into the hallway, but instead of it feeling like I was simply leaving a room, it felt more like a stack of pressure descending upon my shoulders. At the side, waiting patiently, was my incredibly large bodyguard in golden armor. The face guard of his helm was pushed up, and he only momentarily glanced at me before returning to the piece of wood that he was carving up in his hand with a knife. He was actually surprisingly skilled despite the fact that he was wearing gauntlets. He probably would be more popular if it weren't for the fact that the figurine he was making was of a person being eviscerated; I could recognize the stomach entrails he was working on because of his previous works.

"Gregor, let's get going."

He merely grunted in response, but when I walked passed him, Gregor blew the wood shavings off his creation and carefully placed it in one of his belt pouches. It took only a moment before he trailed after me, his eyes vigilant. It was a loyalty born from the years that we spent together, one that I reciprocated. He still had a large issue with his anger, but I had curbed it to a large extent through lots and lots of patience, and that paid off. In my war efforts, he had been remarkable, and even in peace, he still had a place to belong to.

That was something that I did for my army as well, out of both moral and ethical obligation. Good pay, good equipment, good training, and a good pension. The fact that I cared about my soldiers helped, which was why I had the best-trained army in Westeros. The people of this era still believed in quantity being better, but I subscribed to the more modern notion that quality was more worthwhile, and that had helped me in the wars and battles I had conducted.

The respect in my soldier's eyes were palpable when they met me at the door to the Grand Chamber. They dutifully pushed open the large double doors as one of the others took a step forward and shouted out my introduction.

"All rise for Lord Hachi Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and claimant to the Iron Throne!"

It was a short introduction, but I was never for long ones in any case, even before I had to listen to it thousands of times. As I walked on the long carpet to what was essentially a massive and jeweled throne, I could see the many Lords and Ladies that stood on either side, watching with rapt attention. Unlike other would-be throne rooms, I gave them all comfy chairs such that they would be able to sit when I sat down so it was more like a modern meeting hall than the throne room in King's Landing. There were even people of lower class status in here that I allowed by excuse of their achievements being large enough, overriding the grumbles of my noble-born followers.

…oh, you want to know why they called me a claimant? That was from the start of everything. Many years ago, I had been in King's Landing due to Tywin's demand that I practice my woefully lacking politics skills. That task essentially became just me following Cersei around as she did most of the work. However, that was when the trouble with Rhaegar's cheating came to light. That had escalated fast after Brandon Stark and his posse were imprisoned. Or as fast as a medieval timeline could do, since traveling took days so it wasn't like a television drama that could be neatly wrapped up in an hour. When his father, Rickard Stark, finally made it to King's Landing, it went from bad to worse.

King Aerys made it into an unwinnable game of trying to burn Rickard at the stake while putting a noose around Brandon's neck and a sword to free both of them just out of his reach. Yeah, I was frightened, but if I had stayed still while knowing that I had the power to save them, then it would have haunted me forever. Despite my reluctance, I had already stepped out. Voicing a challenge, another game, in which I would stick my arm into the wood that was burning with dragon fire. If it didn't harm me, then all of them would go free, and we would all receive safe passage out of King's Landing. If I failed, my arm would be burnt to a crisp. Of course, it was a game rigged in my favor, a game that was impossible for me to lose.

Cersei tried to stop it, which made King Aerys agree all the faster since harming the heir of Tywin was something he would enjoy. He had never kept his disdain for Tywin hidden, even back when we first came to King's Landing. So when I stuck my arm into there and only my clothes burned, under the surprised gaze of everyone, even he could only gawk in astonishment. Of course, he kept his words since he was a king and allowed us to leave King's Landing with the Starks. What he didn't do was leave us alone. He sent hunting parties after us, and it was only later after we managed to reach Casterly Rock, that I learned that it wasn't to kill the Starks.

It was to capture me. Apparently, they now thought that I had the blood of House Blackfyre somehow from my mother's line because of my abilities. The conjecture had been further cemented as fact when I openly displayed my ability to produce and control fire to fight off the hunting parties. And that…

That became the start of the civil war which still existed even today.

Well, it was more like a cold war now.

The continent had been splintered, but I controlled a majority portion of Westeros. It was a cold war that eventually worked out for me since I could keep up a war economy and a standing army without objection, all for the sake of fighting back against the White Walkers. Mysterious and deadly inhuman enemies who turned out to be far more easy than I anticipated, resulting in the position that I was in today where I had no choice but to finish what I started.

I took a seat on my glamorous throne, a bejeweled furniture that was probably more comfy than the iron throne. I couldn't image a seat made of melted down blades to be a comfortable one. Everyone else sat down on their own cushioned chairs. To my left, I could see some of my closest followers. The Red Priestess Kinvara—since Melissandre had already left the world after the White Walker threat was eliminated—and my high general, Cersei Lannister. Sitting next to her was my strongest knight, Jaime Lannister, who could somehow even beat Gregor consistently, though only barely and through some trickery. I could see Jaime and Cersei holding hands publicly while smiling happily. Normally, society wouldn't accept this open display of incest, but since they thought that we all had a bit of Targaryen blood in us, they thought it was a-okay.

…I didn't have the heart to tell them the truth, especially after their first child was born.

"Let's begin," I said simply and loudly. It wasn't like it was different from the thousands of other times that I had done it so there was no point in being too verbose about it.

Rising from her seat, the Priestess Kinvara walked over to stand in front of me and bowed at the waist. When she stood up straight again, that was when she finally gave voice to the words she wanted to say.

"Lord Tyrion sends word that he and the Viper of Dorne had discovered valuable efforts to counter the Spider had borne fruit. He wishes to arrange a meeting to inform you of the matter personally."

"Send a message that I will meet him at his estate in a week. It's been awhile since I seen his wife, Tysha, and their children, and I bet he hasn't seen them in awhile either."

"As you command, my lord." Kinvara nodded her head once. Raising her head, she said, "There is another matter that I must discuss with you."

"Go on."

"The cities of Slaver's Bay has petitioned once again for trade routes to be opened."

"Tell them I'll consider it when they abolish slavery," I said adamantly. "There's a reason I crushed the Iron Isles."

And that reason wasn't just for their iron mines.

"As you wish, my lord." As I saw her walk back to her chair and take a seat again, I could see one of the lords rising from his own seat with a eager look on his face.

And thus, my trials and tribulations began.

As the hours floated by and my mind was inundated with the mundane and sometimes trivial matters of the nobles' bickering, I found myself longing to extend my court and justice system to include the noble classes, but they would never accept judgment from anyone underneath their class status so unfortunately, it fell to me to deal with matters that could probably be solved by an experienced mother of two or more children. By the time that the day waned and my court was finally closed, my mind was close to shutting down. Thankfully, this was not a daily event, otherwise my brain would give out from pure boredom and frustration.

As I sat alone in the Grand Chamber—well, alone besides Gregor standing by my side—I took the moment to relax a bit. A moment that was shattered by the great doors opening. Not that I could say anything since it was my wife standing there. Janna Tyrell stepped gingerly into the room, more confident than she was when we had first married. Since then, we had grown to love each other. Not sure if it was true love, but it was passionate and enjoyable enough that I couldn't complain. And when I saw the three teenagers trailing behind her, I couldn't keep that burst of happiness from exploding in my chest.

You never really would know what it feels like until you had children of your own. That was apt enough description, and I had lambasted it with my philosophical thoughts about it, but that was before I really had children. There was something about them that, even if I had to sacrifice all my hobbies and free time, I wouldn't really regret it. Even thinking about it now, it felt weird how I had changed. They gathered up in front of me as I stood up and walked to them.

"Janna, you didn't have to bring them to this messy place." The chairs that the lords and ladies were sitting on were now misaligned and even scattered. Such was the mess they made when they all left the room. Not to mention that it was a bit dirty from dropped food when they snacked and drank during the session.

"They wanted to see you," Janna said cheerfully with a bright smile. "They said something about getting more Hachi points."

"Mother!"

"Yukino." My oldest daughter turned to look at me at my call. With long golden hair that was meticulously cared for, she was definitely showing signs of being a beauty on the level that Cersei was famous for. However, the cold gaze that she stared back at me with, even though I was her father, was enough to send most would-be suiters scurrying away. Still, as frosty as she could be, there was always a hint of warmth in her eyes when I looked at her. Before someone says I named her after Yukino because of a first crush or anything like that, I will tell you outright that is not it; I originally wanted to name her after both Yuigahama Yui and Yukinoshita Yukino, but when I combined Yui and Yukino, it came out as Yuikino, and that offended my Japanese sensibilities so Yukino it was. Still, she really took after both of her namesakes, though it is considered a strange "Eastern" name, such that a prince of Yi Ti had even sent a marriage request for Yukino just because of her name. Not that I would accept something like that. I turned to my second daughter.

"Alysanne." She was already looking at me when I took a look at her. Janna had named her, especially since I gave our first daughter her name. Alysanne, for her part, was a charming and energetic young girl who was constantly hopping about. I had already gotten hints from Brandon Stark about a secret alliance through a relative of the Starks marrying her, and that wasn't even mentioning the obvious overtures from the Vale for Robert Arryn. Of course, I wasn't going to accept something like this either. It wasn't my choice to make. I finally turned to my youngest.

"Hatch." Maybe it was out of nostalgia for my (second) mother, but the name that I was supposed to be given was the same name that I gave to my son and heir. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure how to interact with him too much these days because…

He was the very definition of an ikeman. His appearance was beyond A grade, and that wasn't even mentioning his intelligent and studious nature which was far above me. His swordsmanship, taught by both Jaime and Gregor, was increasing at a visible rate, and the two had even said that he might surpass them when he reaches the age of majority. Everyone kept telling him that he acts like a king, and to be honest, he really does act like one. Yet, in spite of all these superb qualities that outshine me in every way, he practically idolized me. How do you interact with a son who wants to write down everything you say as gospel and frame it in a golden picture frame?

"So, Lord Father," Hatch said with a charismatic smirk. "Comforting you after a long day must be worth a lot of Hachi points, right?"

… and all three of them were absolutely obsessed with the idea of Hachi points.

"It was supposed to be an arbitrary grading system!"

Hatch simply grinned brightly in response, a cocky smile that could have made any girl in attendance swoon. How much more of an ikeman can he be?! And for what? Hachi points?!

If that wasn't enough, then the fact that it had spread among my followers should be. None were more fervent for it than Cersei and her followers. She even kept an official ledger that recorded down how much Hachi points everyone had, though last I heard, she was quite a bit in the lead even over my own wife. Why was my wife reporting it to her in the first place?!

"And for god's sake, there's nothing to redeem Hachi points with!"

Of course, my words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. If they were listening, they wouldn't be smiling so widely at that. Even the chillest of my daughters was smiling, and that wasn't even mentioning the laughter coming from my wife.

Still, the sight of them having fun made the corners of my lips curl up and a sense of warmth spread through me.

All of this was something that I could never have expected.

~o~

A small time skip in a sea of time skips. I could go into the day to day menial tasks, but I would like to spare my mind. My memories have a finite storage space, as evident by my fading memories of Japan.

A week had passed before I had met up with Tyrion and his family at his estate. From what he told me, apparently, I had gotten another invitation to a secret liaison, one that I had repeated throughout the years. Who was this lucky lady who I deemed to have an affair with?

Rhaegar Targaryen.

Yes, because I wasn't a NTR scumbag. And no, I did not have sexual relations with that man, so perish the thought. This was a secret meeting between two leaders of Kingdoms embroiled in a cold war in which the actual citizenry didn't really pay much attention to anymore since there wasn't any real restriction on trade or even open fighting between us.

I rode on my horse next to his as we traveled across the vibrant green plains. Far behind us, our troop of bodyguard knights on horses followed us, even as they gazed warily at each other. It was understandable though, since the two Kings of Westeros were riding on the fields.

"I believe this civil war has gone on long enough," Rhaegar said.

"Yeah." My words were simple, but we were not really enemies in the first place since we both weren't interested in mutual destruction. Because of that, back then, Rhaegar had come back as soon as he heard what happened and subtly deescalated the war. However, we had kept up the cold war because it suited both our purposes since we both believed that the Long Night was coming. Him, because of an ancient royal prophecy. Me, because of Zaimokuza, which is honestly a better source of information. We worked toward our goal in different ways, with him focusing on the Prince Who Was Promised.

"To that end, I propose a marriage between our children to seal the peace," Rhaegar said. "My heir, Aegon, to your eldest, Yukino, and my daughter, Rhaenys, to your heir, Hatch. It will be a Targaryen and Lannister on both thrones."

"I told you before, and I'll tell you again. I won't force my children into political marriages."

"I know you are close to the Hightowers, but you take too much to their ways," he said. "This is for the sake of Westeros."

"So was fighting the White Walkers, but we fought them together just fine. We'll find another way," I said. "I'm not going to decide their future for them."

Rhaegar sighed, but then the corners of his lips began to curve up.

"I'm not satisfied, but still, that is what I like about you, Lord Hachi," Rhaegar said with a honest smile. "You don't play games with lives."

"No, I do," I said as I looked up at the clear skies. "I do."

Everything that I had done, there was a reason. However, that didn't erase what I did, the people I manipulated and used, the lives I had destroyed, and the corpses I left behind me. It was far too late to go back now, far too late to apologize. They might say, in the far future, that I saved far more people than I broke, but even one person is still a life, and that life weighs on me. A burden that I must carry for the things that I did and the things that I will do. Before I leave, before I lie down to rest or head off with Zaimokuza, I had to finish what I started so that the lives that succeed me won't have to bear that burden. That is my responsibility, as a leader…

…and as a father.

"This really is a troublesome game..."

The skies stretched out before me, as far I could see.

~o~

The End

~o~

Author's Note:

Well, that was a crazy ride, and I hope you enjoyed everything you read. Thanks for reading! Now I'm going to go into the nitty gritty so if that's not your jam, you probably shouldn't read on.

So why did it take so long and why did I decide to just finish it off. To tell the truth, I was going to write it out, but I tried. I really tried. I have literally made 60k words worth of failed attempts that floundered after two or three chapters. I couldn't understand why, but I didn't want to abandon the story because I loved it. For all its flaws, when I read back on it, I enjoyed it which is something that I couldn't say the same for some of my older works. I worked hard to try to do it, but I couldn't. I made excuses, and I made up reasons like it was because season 7 and 8 of Game of Thrones was terrible. It wasn't until a couple of months ago that I realized the true reason for that.

So I am a strange type of writer. I write more on instinct than anything else. So the problem that I was having was that I was doing the usual method that writers usually do. I was trying to think and plan for the various paths the story could take. The problem was that I would think too hard and plan far into the future, such that the present became boring and uninteresting to write. Somehow, that is my inherent writing trait. I of course still tried to plan and write which had led to 60k of work I couldn't use. So a couple of months ago, I just decided to do another quest-style story which I had some people voting on what I write next for it, and after a couple of weeks of that, I found out that I could write a lot.

Yes, I could write a lot when I didn't really have to think. Consistently too.

So, wanting to finish out this story so there would be closure, I went to my good friend, Vahn. He is one of the people who liked my story, so I talked with him about the ideas and such. Using that information and his own ideas, he made me an outline for the chapter here.

I finished the first draft within one day. I didn't follow the outline strictly, injecting new ideas and switching things around, but that still doesn't change the fact that it made things a lot easier for me.

So what's the moral of this story? Apparently, I write better when I don't have to think much. Everyone has their own traits, something that they are born with. I just never thought it would also apply to writing too.

Well, at least now I know now the reason and solution, which should make it easier to do future works.


End file.
